


No Strings

by epcot97



Series: What Came Before He Knew Her [4]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Marichat, Marichat | Adrien Agreste as Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-07-24 18:09:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20018800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epcot97/pseuds/epcot97
Summary: When Adrien realizes he has unwittingly broken Marinette’s heart with a chance comment, he enlists his alter ego to repair the damage inadvertently inflicted upon his friend.  Chat Noir finds he has his paws full as the lines begin to blur between friendship and something more.





	1. After Effects

**Author's Note:**

> After watching Puppeteer 2 recently, I discovered I had the perfect vehicle for a third take on my What Came Before He Knew Her series – a chance, really, for me to delve deeply into what makes Chat such a complicated character, and how that affects his ability (as Chat or Adrien) to have people in his life that he truly cares about. And I won’t lie: it also gives me a marvelous excuse for a new MariChat storyline.
> 
> Fair warning: this is a bit of an experimental piece for me. Unlike my other carefully plotted out stories, I only have a general sense of where I want to go and how to get to that destination. So, as a character once said in a classic movie Chat might recommend, you might want to buckle up – it could be an interesting ride. 
> 
> This story picks up quite literally after the events of the episode Puppeteer 2, so if you’ve not seen the third season of Miraculous, there are minor spoilers involved in the telling of this tale. You’ve been warned.
> 
> As always, I have no ownership of Miraculous other than the joy in writing these characters.

I watched, slightly stunned, as Marinette slammed the door shut to the sedan.

The conversation we’d had once we were finally alone had felt as though I’d restored the equilibrium of our friendship; I’d been afraid that my misguided attempts to prove myself to her at the Grevin had irrevocably damaged our relationship. Having an unscheduled akuma in the mix hadn’t helped matters, but I’d seen that smile I knew so well a fraction of a moment before I appeared to have once again crashed and burned.

As the sedan pulled away from the Bakery, I kept my eyes planted on her diminutive form as she slowly walked to the door of the shop. Her slumped shoulders and sluggish movements painted a very different picture of my success. Somehow, I had messed up.

I leaned my head back against the seat and let out a long sigh. There was no question I was really, really bad at this whole “friend” thing. My attempt to hang on to one of my closest appeared to have instead increased the distance between us. What had I said that had taken her from that glorious smile to not being able to look at me when she exited the sedan?

Closing my eyes, I let the white noise of the sedan moving through the city wash over me as I contemplated the remains of the day. I’d thought we were friends. Were we still friends? I replayed the conversation over and over again in my head, but came no closer to an answer by the time the sedan slowed to a stop at the mansion.

Somewhat morosely, I unbuckled and exited, traipsing up the marble steps toward Nathalie and my never-ending schedule. She said something to me as I passed by and I nodded automatically as I continued up the steps to my room where I threw myself on the bed. “Plagg, what did I do?” I asked, my voice muffled slightly by the pillow I’d buried myself in. “I think I messed things up _worse_ than they were before we left for the museum!”

I felt my kwami hovering next to me. “Girls are hard to fathom,” he said sagely. “Some more than others.”

I turned my head slightly and cracked an eye at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Plagg had that Cheshire grin that I knew meant he was holding back something. “Look, kid, you have to admit that little stunt as a statue was ill-timed and misguided. Not only did you embarrass Marinette, you came across as a total---”

“That part I know,” I said, cutting him off. “I thought my apology in the sedan and explanation had at least taken the sting out of it.” I turned my head back to the pillow. Some of what Marinette had said to me while I was attempting to pretend to be a statue had been quite endearing, actually. She’d laughed it off later, of course, but if even a tiny part of what she had said was true, I had underestimated her feelings for me. Greatly.

“But she said she was joking,” I said to Plagg. “Like I was,” I added as I turned back to my kwami.

“Were you? Joking?”

“Not about the value of her friendship to me.”

“She nearly kissed you,” he reminded me. “Call me crazy, but I think that’s significant, kid.”

“She thought she was kissing a _statue_ , Plagg,” I snapped. 

“From where I’m floating, the way you’ve been treating her doesn’t seem all that different.”

That made me twist around to face Plagg. “I’m not a statue around her!” I said defensively.

“Aren’t you?” Plagg narrowed his eyes, and nearly looked exasperated. “Given how oblivious you are to her feelings toward you, you might as well be made of wax.”

For the second time that afternoon, I felt like someone had socked me in the stomach. “I’m her friend…” I said, but it was more tentative than I’d intended. “I do tons of stuff with her. I talk to her all the time.”

Plagg actually rolled his eyes at me. “Of course. That _totally_ means you’re her friend. My apologies.” He turned and whisked away toward his stash of camembert, leaving me staring into the space he’d occupied.

Was Plagg right? I had so few friends, maybe my definition of what constituted one was flawed – as well as my own responsibilities along those lines. I had to admit, despite having had the best tutors Father could afford, being cooped up in the mansion with little to no contact with the outside world had not prepared me for the social realities of school. 

As I stood and wandered aimlessly toward my couch, I realized I had at least one strike against me. My background as the son of a fashion scion put me into a different strata, one that I was trying hard to break out of. Looking around my room, I realized my personal life wasn’t terribly relatable to anyone; for the first time, I found myself truly wondering how others saw me.

My eyes flicked down to the ring on my hand. Chat Noir had become my way of escaping from the confines of being Adrien. He allowed me to be the person I wanted to be, saying and doing things Father would never have allowed; helping people in a way that was not possible as Adrien. I’d even created what I thought was a deep friendship with Ladybug, but given my afternoon, I found myself questioning even that.

_What would I do as Chat?_ I wondered, fussing with the ring as I continued to wander my bedroom. _I’d be direct. I’d ask what I’d said to Marinette that had soured her on me._

I smiled a Chat-smile. That _was_ the way I’d handle it, but mostly because I would literally be hiding behind the mask, emboldened by the idea that she wouldn’t know who she was talking to. 

Or who had hurt her.

The smile widened. If Adrien couldn’t get to the bottom of this, perhaps Chat _could_. My eyes flicked to the open window and the late afternoon sunshine slanting through it. As much as I wanted to sail out into the Parisian sky, I knew I’d be expected at dinner within the hour. Odds were good that it would be a lonely one again, so I vowed to bolt my food as quickly as possible.

Father didn’t make an appearance in the dining room, just as I’d expected, and for once, Nathalie didn’t stand guard over me, either. It was gourmet as always but, as always, never felt like enough given the calories I burned as Chat Noir. I had a particular body image that needed to be maintained and I couldn’t blame Chef for only following Father’s instructions.

Slipping extra camembert into my pocket from the cheese and fruit plate on the buffet, I nonchalantly headed back toward the bedroom and had barely closed the door before calling for my transformation. Plagg had started to say something but it was lost in his transfer to the ring. And to be honest, I was no longer in the mood for his less-than-helpful advice.

Grabbing my baton from the small of my back, I bounded through the window and vaulted off the fence ringing the mansion, springing into a helicopter with the baton to reach the first rooftop. From there I ran, leapt and pole vaulted my way across Paris to the building opposite the Bakery, where I dropped down into a cat-crouch on the slanted tile. 

As Chat, I had been to the bakery a number of times but only a handful of them were social. My most recent visit had resulted in her father becoming a rather possessive akumatized werewolf, yet one more indicator that I didn’t have this whole social thing down with either persona. If I’d learned anything, it was I needed to be more thoughtful in my interactions with Marinette.

A lesson, it appeared, I had forgotten that very afternoon.

The sun’s angle had begun to give the rooftop patio she frequented a bit of a warm glow; the space evoked a cozy sense of home diametrically opposed to my sterile mansion existence. The happy party lights Marinette had strung across the space were already on, and the skylight was open; I couldn’t see her, but that felt like a good sign she was in.

I took a deep breath. Despite the bravado I normally felt as Chat, I was starting to feel like this was a bad idea. Before I lost my nerve, though, I leapt into movement and swiftly ran across the connecting rooftops in a wide circle that took me just behind the brick wall to her patio. One more leap and I was perched atop a chimney exuding fabulous scents of cinnamon and freshly baked bread.

Closing my masked feline eyes, I imagined myself in the kitchen below, happily sitting and watching Tom working his craft and maybe helping here and there. It was one of many fantasies I had about what real families might be like; despite just the short amount of time I’d spent with Marinette, Nino and Alya, I had come to realize my home life was the definition of atypical. But I had so few clues as to what was actually normal.

“Chat?” I heard from below me.

My eyes snapped open, and I flushed slightly with embarrassment. I’d been so lost in what my feline sense of smell had picked up, I’d not heard her return to the rooftop. “Hi,” I said simply. “Has anyone ever told you how divine the smells from this chimney are?”

A half smile appeared on Marinette’s face. “No,” she said. “Then again, most of my visitors don’t sit there, either.”

“They should,” I said, smiling widely. “It emphasizes what a baker your father is.”

“I’ll pass that along,” she said, somewhat bemused. “What brings you to my… chimney… this afternoon?”

“May I?” I asked formally, tilting my mane at the patio. At her nod, I leapt to a railing near where she was standing and balanced on it. I’d spent the afternoon trying to decide how best to broach the conversation; it was now or never. 

“I was in the area,” I started, “and I thought I’d stop by to see if there were any after effects from the akuma at the Grevin.” I paused, my emerald eyes searching her deep blue ones. “How are you doing?”

Marinette looked away, and I had my answer. “Fine,” she said.

The Adrien part of me shrank just a little bit. I dropped off the railing and came around to her, then put a claw tip gently to her chin. “Cats have an intrinsic sense, Princess,” I said, unsure of when I had started to use that particular appellation with Marinette. “We are drawn to people who are hurting.” 

“Really,” she said softly, still looking at her shoes.

“Absolutely.” I paused, hoping she couldn’t hear my heart racing while I struggled to keep my cool Chat composure. “It might help if you talk about it. I know it helped me.”

Her eyes finally looked up at me. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Chat,” she said, “and I have to admit, you’re the last person I’d have expected to lend _me_ an ear.”

I tried to ignore the implication. “I have some spares,” I joked, twitching one of my feline ears as emphasis. “But it shouldn’t surprise you,” I added. “It’s one of my core purposes as Chat: make people feel better.”

The shadow of a smile appeared again. “Is it now?”

“Yes,” I said, smiling warmly. 

“Thanks,” she said, “but truly, I am fine. Or I will be.”

I found myself frowning. “You might be able to fool most people with that,” I said, looking at her carefully, “but it’s pawlain to me you are anything _but_.” I stepped back physically, intentionally emphasizing my next point: “I’m here if you want to talk, but I understand if you don’t.” I waited a heartbeat to push my luck slightly. “You’ve been a good friend to me; I want to return the favor, if I can.”

She continued to look away. “That’s thoughtful of you, Chat,” she said.

I pulled out my baton. “What’s your phone number, Marinette?” I asked, though my alter ego had it on speed dial.

Her head shot up. “Why?”

“I’m going to text you my super-secret Chat Hotline number. If you change your mind, you’ll know how to reach me.” I smiled. “Of course, as much as I would like it to be the case, I’m not Chat _all_ the time, so there might be a slight delay in my returning your call…”

That made her laugh. “Now _that_ I can believe.” She paused and then gave me her number; I quickly tapped out a text message and sent it to her, then added her to my contact list on the Cat Phone.

“When I say _any time_ , Purrincess, I mean it,” I said as I leapt to the railing again. It was clear I’d made as much progress as I could that evening and didn’t want to push my luck.

“Thanks,” she said, and it sounded genuine to my feline ears.

I leapt away into the gathering darkness, wondering if she would ever actually call me.

Over the course of the next few days, I slipped away from my classmates as often as I could get away with it in order to check my Cat Phone; most evenings I spent sitting on my bedroom floor as Chat, one feline ear attuned to unexpected visitors and the other waiting for the baton to ring. Had anyone peeked in on my activities, they would have assumed I had become a lovestruck cat, hanging on the next move of my beloved. Too bad it wasn’t true.

By Friday evening, I’d decided my overtures had been politely declined. I’d turned out all the lights in the bedroom to watch the night descend through my open window; on a whim, I put the baton away at the small of my back and leapt to the windowsill and simply perched. I had no reason to go out, yet out I went, prowling the evening skies over Paris all the while trying to decide if I had gone two-for-two with Marinette.

Clearly my reputation as a catsanova was undeserved.

Well past midnight, I landed atop an antenna aerial and perched facing the Eiffel Tower. The lights were on and made it seem more romantic than normal; just what I _didn’t_ need to see, of course. We’d gone almost a week without an akuma, which meant it had been that long and then some since I’d seen Ladybug; with no way to contact her, and no reason to meet up, I was feeling a bit alone – especially given how Marinette had continued to give me something of a cold shoulder. I was pretty certain she was still coming to terms with whatever I had done. I tried to engage her in tiny ways, but she rebuffed me completely – even going so far as to sit on the far side of the library with Alya instead of her normal spot next to me and Nino.

“Paris,” I said to the Tower. “A city for love? Not so much,” I sighed.

I waited a moment more and then made to leap back into the air. At that moment, my baton buzzed; I already had it in my hand, so I snapped it open. There on the tiny screen of the Cat Phone was a text message:

**_Marinette_ ** _: Chat, if you are still willing, I could really use that feline ear of yours now.  
_

**_Chat:_ ** _Of course, Purrincess. I’m on my way.  
_

**_Marinette:_ ** _Thanks, kitty._

I snapped the baton shut and leapt toward my friend.


	2. Unvarnished

The night sky was moonless, allowing the stars to twinkle with full abandon. They felt like silent cheerleaders for me, urging me onward toward Marinette and the Bakery. That she had actually reached out to me felt encouraging, but I was mindful as well of the fragility of the decision… and my past track record. 

I landed once again on what was becoming my favorite chimney in Paris; at that late hour, Tom had clearly gone to bed, for no extravagant smells wafted to my feline nose. I looked down, and Marinette was leaning over her railing, facing the river, so deeply absorbed in her thoughts she’d not heard me land. I gently tapped a claw against the metal, sending a bright tone into the night. 

Marinette turned and saw me, then smiled. “Chat. You came.” 

“I’m hurt you would think otherwise,” I said truthfully. “May I join you?” 

“Of course,” she said. “I know it’s late, but I have some goodies from the bakery,” she added as I vaulted to the railing and perched beside her. “They’re from today; we can’t sell them tomorrow, but I think they still taste wonderful.” 

I looked to where she was pointing, and saw a small tray of baked goods stacked neatly into groupings by type. Off to one side sat a carafe of coffee (per my feline nose) and two mugs, one of which was steaming into the evening already. But my eyes snapped back to the macaroons, carefully piled in the center. Without getting any closer, I could smell they were passionfruit, and also knew they’d been made specifically for Adrien. By Marinette. 

I’d found _that_ out the night we were at the premier of the animated movie about Chat Noir and Ladybug; she’d tried to give me one at the pre-show party, but the director had wound up with it instead – and a nasty allergic reaction that had contributed to his akumatization. The fact that they were now, en masse, added to the “day old” stack of pastries was significant. 

Ouch. 

Wondering how to tactfully navigate this minefield, I carefully dropped from the railing and made my way over to the food, politely waiting for Marinette to hand me a small dessert dish and a napkin. It took some effort not to spear a croissant with a claw, but I managed to pile a few items on my plate – including a few macaroons, though I was careful not to show any favoritism toward them. 

“I don’t get sweets very often,” I said between bites. “But you know that already,” I laughed. 

She rolled her eyes. “Not one of Papa’s finer moments,” she said. “But in fairness to him, he’d misunderstood everything from the start.” 

“It happens a lot around me,” I said with a bit of humor. I had a habit of being in the middle of such situations. “These are really good,” I said as I polished off one of the macaroons. “Are these passionfruit?” I asked innocently. 

“Yes,” she said absently as she walked back toward the railing. “I make a few each weekend. Just in case.” 

“Just in case… what?” I asked. 

“It’s not important,” she sighed. 

I joined her at the railing, perhaps slightly closer than was strictly necessary. “Maybe it is,” I said. “Especially if they are for the boy who’s hurt you.” 

Her head snapped toward me. “Why on Earth would you say that?” 

“A hunch,” I said, hoping my face didn’t betray the truth. “And as I said, cats have a finely-honed sense of empathy.” I held up one of the handcrafted masterpieces, realizing for the first time just how much love had been baked into each one – and how I had paid so little attention to the effort she’d put into them. 

For me. 

“These are incredible works of art,” I said. “Reflective of the baker and her talents. You put a part of yourself into them when you create them.” 

Marinette looked at me, an odd expression on her face and something in her eyes that I couldn’t quite place. Wistfulness, maybe? “That’s rather insightful, Chat,” she said softly. 

I leapt up to the railing next to her, expertly balancing on the thin rail, and continued to munch on my plate of goodies. I let the silence develop comfortably, knowing that she’d start talking when she was ready. I didn’t want to push her; in some ways, I actually didn’t want to hear what she was going to say, either. Nonetheless, I sat with her companionably, occasionally flicking an ear toward her as an unspoken reminder of why I was there. 

At length, she sighed, and put her chin on her palms as she leaned against the railing. “He doesn’t see me,” she said, almost so quietly only someone with enhanced feline hearing would have heard her. “The boy I love.” 

I scooted a bit toward her but remained silent. This close to her, I was fully aware of her unique scent: vanilla and cinnamon, with other exotic spices. I couldn’t pick it out as Adrien, of course, but now that I’d been with her as Chat a few times, it was locked into my scent memory. For the first time, though, I was finding it rather enthralling; the sugar of the pastries had to be going to my feline brain. 

“He was the reason I was at the museum in the first place,” she continued, equally as softly. “I wanted so _badly_ just be close to him.” 

“The Grevin?” I asked, knowing the answer. 

“Yeah,” she said, shifting her gaze up and into the starry night. “I shouldn’t have even _been_ at the museum,” she said. “He really wanted his best friend, but Nino wouldn’t go without Alya, and Alya wouldn’t go without me.” She paused again, smiling wryly. “And I was supposed to be babysitting Manon.” 

I nodded. 

“But I went -- any chance to be close to him. Until that day, I would’ve done anything just to be in the same _room_ for a few minutes.” 

I could feel my face starting to flame and turned a bit away. She hadn’t mentioned me by name yet, but the implication was clear. The emotional dam broke and she went on to describe the events I knew well, and to her credit, spared nothing. As Marinette worked her way through the day, I grew more and more uncomfortable. Seeing events unfolding through her eyes was a new experience; the moments she’d spent alone with me took on a new flavor, and I quickly realized I had misread the entire situation from the beginning. 

The _very_ beginning - not just the Grevin debacle. 

I could feel my face growing warmer as she told me about the moment with me pretending to be a statue, and found myself thankful that my embarrassment was less apparent in the semidarkness of her rooftop patio. 

“He stood there… and let me gush to him. Everything, all of it.” She looked at me. “Then he moved and it became a nightmare. My worst nightmare.” 

I tried to keep my face the model of empathy, but what I was hearing was cutting me far deeper than I had expected. She hadn’t been kidding. Marinette _meant_ what she’d said to me while I had goofily stood there. How could she _not_ think I was making light of her? Maybe even mocking her? 

What struck me at that moment, though, was how we both were completely incapable of telling someone how we felt directly unless we had some sort of protective cover. Mine had always been the Chat mask; in her case, it had been what she thought was an Adrien proxy. 

We were far more alike than I’d have admitted. 

How had I missed this? She sat behind me in school, for crying out loud. And she wasn’t kidding – she managed to always be in my study group or assigned to a project with me. I’d just assumed she was doing what friends did, not realizing there was more to it. 

With a cold almost clinical certainty, I realized I’d intentionally, and perhaps cruelly, looked past her to _my_ crush, Ladybug. The laser focus on my partner had induced me to overlook the rose right at hand. What had I been thinking? I’d misunderstood everything. Misinterpreted everything. And in the process, hurt someone who was very, very special to me. 

Caught between defending myself and wildly torn over not realizing that she did – or, I corrected myself glumly, _had_ — felt just the way she had confessed to statue me, I dug deep into my model tricks and plastered the most empathetic look I had in my portfolio onto my masked visage. “That is… unfathomable,” I said, realizing belatedly she’d been waiting for me to say something. 

“Yeah,” she nodded, looking away. “After the akuma, his driver took me home,” she continued. 

The dread that this was about to get even _worse_ felt palpable; almost as if someone had poured raw acid directly into my stomach. Still keeping my face in place, I tried to smile gently to coax her forward, though in reality I would have preferred to have skipped this part entirely. 

Marinette wandered back to the goodies tray and piled several macaroons onto her plate, and returned with that and the carafe of coffee, which she used to top off her mug. As she poured, she continued. “We were alone, finally. It was just me and… Adrien,” she said, tipping up the carafe as she finally uttered my name in the presence of Chat Noir. 

It took every trick in the book to keep from blanching. 

“He tried to explain himself, and for a moment, I thought I understood why he had done what he’d done. And…” she paused once more, gathering herself, and turned her deep blue eyes directly to my emerald. I saw pain there. Deep hurt. Emotions I’d seen it once before on one other person. 

Me. The night Ladybug told me there was someone else. 

“I started to take the leap I’d been avoiding. The one that could cause me pain; I was on the cusp of telling him that everything I’d said to him was true. Every. Last. Bit.” 

Marinette turned and slowly walked the carafe back to the small table, and my masked eyes followed her. For some reason, my vision was blurring a bit; I blinked hard to fight back the tears – sympathetic tears – that threatened to fall. 

She turned back and just stared over my shoulder, not really seeing me anymore. “Whatever I’d been feeling, whatever I _thought_ I was going to say, all of it vanished instantly when he revealed he was in love – but with someone else.” 

Marinette looked at me directly, and she, too, seemed to be holding back the tears. “Everything he said up to that point – had it been a lie? He said he was a friend, but a friend wouldn’t have done what he did. And he led me on. Made me think there was more there than there was.” 

At that, the tears started to flow, and I immediately leapt to her side and carefully wrapped her into a hug, using one paw to gently place her head against my black leather-covered chest. Her whole body was shaking, and I went into full cat mode. Deftly, I maneuvered us over to her chaise lounge and sat down with her, still cradling her in my arms. 

“I’m so sorry,” I said softly, holding her just as gently as I could and partially apologizing for my own actions while trying to comfort her. “It’s going to be okay,” I said. “I’m here, let it all out. Let it go.” 

As we sat there together, I found myself barely holding it together. I had done this. To the person I thought was one of my closest friends. I was ashamed, embarrassed and heartbroken on behalf of Marinette. And, as I fought back my own angry tears, I realized it would be nearly impossible for Adrien to fix this. At least, not without help. And the one person he’d normally have gone to was a shaking mess in my arms. 

What could I do? I _had_ to make this right. 

I buried my face in her hair, gently purring to her as I did so. I felt the tension start to ease from her body, and the crying became intermittent sobs. Rocking her gently, I continued purring to her quietly, praying to the kwami gods for some sort of guidance. None came, but Marinette’s breathing became regular and I found she’d snuggled into my warm body. 

“Mari?” I asked softly. 

I was greeted with a snore. And the sudden insight that purrhaps I’d had the answer all along. 

Chat could be the one to help Marinette. 

And maybe, just maybe, he might help provide some measure of redemption for his alter-ego. I let my own tears start to flow as I made a silent promise to Marinette. I’d never let anything hurt her again. No matter the cost. 

Now I just needed to figure out where to begin.


	3. Watchful Waiting

_Now what?_

That was the single thought that kept spinning through my feline brain as I gently lowered Marinette through her skylight and onto her loft bed. She was still sound asleep, emotionally drained from reliving the Grevin disaster. Carefully, I placed her head on her pillow, then dropped down to her floor proper to retrieve a light blanket I’d spied lying on the chaise. Perched on the side of the bed, I gently drew the blanket over her slumbering form and pondered.

Not wanting to wake her, I’d cradled her in my arms on the rooftop patio until it had grown chilly enough that I knew I wasn’t keeping her very warm on my own. The clock in the back of my feline brain was warning me that I needed to scat back to the mansion; popping open the baton as noiselessly as I could, my somewhat bleary eyes saw it was close to three.

And yet, one look at her very relaxed face gave me pause. 

I knew we’d barely scratched the surface, but it seemed to me that allowing her to decompress had in some small measure lifted her spirits. I was certain this was the first night since the Grevin that she’d slept soundly but found myself reluctant to leave her without saying goodbye. I resolved to stay just a little bit longer – maybe another hour – and then would wake her before I left.

Dropping down to the floor, I silently skulked over to the chaise and curled up facing her, intending to keep watch. Knowing how tired I was, though, I took the added precaution of setting an alarm on my baton. 

That turned out to be unnecessary. A gentle hand to my costumed shoulder shocked me into action; I vaulted off the chaise and into my pounce-crouch, and found myself staring down a very rattled Marinette, baton at the ready.

“Do you always wake up ready to attack?” she asked. In the near-darkness of the room, my night vision could see her eyes had gone wide with shock.

Relaxing slightly, I smiled (though I knew she couldn’t see much of it). “Only when I fall asleep on sentry duty,” I laughed wryly. “Sorry for crashing on your couch. I just didn’t want to leave before I’d had a chance to say goodbye.”

I saw her smile. “That was thoughtful,” she said. “But you should get home! It’s nearly four – you’ll be missed for sure!”

“I still have time,” I laughed as I stood and started for the skylight. Pausing at the ladder, I turned back. “Look, Marinette—”

“Thank you,” she said. “You were more help than you realized last night.”

My ears twitched, for I could still hear the hurt in her voice. “I’m glad,” I said. “And if you don’t mind, I’d like to stop by again. Assuming Hawkmoth doesn’t have other plans for me, of course.”

“Chat—” she started.

“I’ll bring dinner,” I said quickly; I didn’t want to push too hard, but I felt strongly that she was still in a bad place. “It’s the least I can do to repay you for the goodies.”

Marinette paused for a long moment, and I felt my ears droop slightly. “How about I call when I’m ready for another visit?” she said finally.

“Of course,” I said, immediately realizing two things: first, I had definitely pushed too hard, and second, I was a bit sad she didn’t want to spend time with me. 

_Such a charmer, Chat,_ I thought morosely. 

“I’ll be waiting for your cat call,” I said airily as I pushed through the skylight, masking my disappointment.

The sky had begun to brighten in anticipation of dawn as I landed in a crouch on my bedroom floor less than a quarter of an hour later. There wasn’t really even enough time for a catnap, but neither was I ready to begin the day. So I stayed there in the middle of my bedroom, seated cat-like, trying to ponder the unfathomable.

School was going to suck, that much I knew; Adrien was far from being out of the doghouse with Marinette, and I’d not moved the needle much as Chat with my late-night visit. Intellectually I knew I needed to let Marinette make the next move, but emotionally, I was having a hard time with that assessment. That, and I couldn’t believe I’d just used the term “doghouse” while sitting in the middle of my bedroom as a cat.

I was more tired than I thought.

Laboriously, I hauled myself up and started toward my bathroom with the intention of dropping my transformation and taking a shower; I’d made it as far as the sliding door when my baton beeped. Pausing at the entrance, I slid it up to see a text from Ladybug.

**_Bugaboo:_ ** _Wakie Wakie. Monsieur Ramier is at it again._

I groaned. The last thing I needed was an early morning akuma. I tapped out my reply with my claws.

**_Chat:_ ** _Any excuse to see me, eh, Milady?_

**_Bugaboo:_ ** _Seriously?_

**_Chat:_ ** _Absolutely **.** On my way._

Sighing, I snapped the baton shut and vaulted toward my still-open bedroom window, somersaulting over the fence and helicoptering toward my first rooftop. I’d lost track of how many times we’d taken on the erstwhile protector of Parisian Pigeons, but was reasonably confident we’d be able to handle him with enough time to still get in a shower and breakfast before school. This was an odd hour for him to become akumatized, though, and as I landed next to Ladybug in the broad plaza of the Trocadero, I could see from her frown she was thinking the same thing.

“Milady,” I said companionably. “We appear to be up earlier than normal.” I scanned her face and for once Ladybug actually looked tired. That gave me pause. “LB, are you all right?”

“Yeah,” she said shortly. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.” She looked at me and then quickly looked to the plaza. “Personal stuff.”

I nodded, knowing there would be absolutely nothing I could say to pry more out of her. Looking across the plaza, I could see our villain floating about on his bed of birds and was unable to suppress my sneeze. Feeling my sinuses start to congest, I turned back to my partner. “The usual?”

“Yeah,” she replied, her terseness even more unusual than her appearance.

“Cataclysm,” I said simply as Ladybug called for her Lucky Charm. Together, we dove into the fray of birds and made extremely short work of it; for once, we begged off the standing invitation from Monsieur Ramier for ice cream (owing to the hour), but I caught Ladybug’s arm before she tossed her yo-yo toward the sky.

Ring beeping, I asked: “Are you _sure_ everything is ok?” I asked, unable to keep the concern from my voice. “You’re really off this morning.”

“I’m fine, Chat.” Ladybug tried to smile. “I just need a bit of a rest, I think.”

“Okay,” I said, also unable to keep my skepticism out of my voice.

Ladybug stepped over to me and put a hand on my bicep. “I appreciate the concern, kitty,” she said genuinely. “I’ll be okay in a bit. Trust me.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Milady,” I said as we leapt away from each other and into the early morning.

Gorilla dropped me at the steps to Dupont a mere few hours later; though showered and fed, I was dragging my figurative cat tail as I trudged up the steps. I made it all the way to the classroom without seeing Marinette, but didn’t heave anything close to a sigh of relief. For standing there at my desk, arms crossed and eyes wild, was her best friend. Clearly Alya had been brought up to speed on the situation. 

“Well, Sunshine, you’ve done it this time, haven’t you?” she asked, leaning toward me slightly. 

Despite being Chat Noir, hero of Paris, I found myself shrinking against the righteous outrage. “Alya—”

“She won’t tell me exactly what it was,” she continued as if I’d not said anything. “I’ll get it out of her eventually. But you are officially on _the list_.”

Seeing prudence was the better part of valor, I rather meekly nodded and slipped into my seat, burying myself in meaningless web pages on my tablet. I was so engrossed in trying to shut out the world that we were nearly a third of the way into class before I realized the teacher had started talking.

I managed to surreptitiously get out of Nino that Marinette had stayed home sick that day, something on reflection I wished I’d thought to do. He was all too happy to fill me in between periods, dishing on how angry his girlfriend was with me, though she still had no idea what I had done to Marinette.

“What _did_ you do?” he asked, eyes wide.

“It’s a big misunderstanding,” I said, “and I’m trying to correct it.”

“Do you need help?”

Despite the situation, that made me smile. “I’ve already got some, thanks,” I said, although the jury was still out on whether Chat was truly improving matters.

By the lunch break, the emotional side of my feline brain trumped logic, convincing me it wouldn’t do _too_ much harm for me to text Marinette. I slipped away to a darkened corner by the stairwell in the courtyard and quickly transformed into Chat Noir; popping open the baton, I accessed the phone function and tapped away with my claws, one feline ear tuned toward any unexpected interruptions.

**_Chat:_ ** _Just checking in. I’m here if you want a friend._

I waited a few moments; when I didn’t see the dots indicating she was responding, I snapped the baton shut and slid it behind my back. With the balance of my lunch hour left, and given I was already transformed, a little spin around the block to get out some of my angst seemed to be in order. Checking the coast was still clear, I leapt upward, then used the baton to push myself through the central opening and into the partly cloudy sky. Landing on the roof at a run, I dashed to the edge and leapt across to the next building and proceeded to lose myself in the simple pleasure of roaming the skyline of the city I loved.

My mind drifted with the clouds I was chasing, attempting to avoid thinking about the mess I’d created but failing miserably. Clearly trying to outrun the pain wasn’t going to work, either; I laughed a bit at my naïveté after landing on a random roof, chest heaving with exertion, only to discover it was my favorite – the one with a fabulous view of Notre Dame and the Seine. 

And less than two blocks from Marinette’s home.

Sighing, I popped open the baton once more to confirm Marinette had yet to reply, and sadly snapped it shut again at the truth. I still had a few minutes before classes picked up for the afternoon, so I stood against the railing and watched the boats as they drifted by below me. They were calming in an almost poetic way, a visual reminder that life does continue to flow regardless of what obstructions you encounter.

I reluctantly vaulted away and into the gathering darkness toward school. A storm appeared to be approaching the city, and though I wasn’t one for ominous portents, I was, after all, a magical black cat and therefore attuned to such matters. By the time I landed in my even-darker corner, the rumbles of thunder and flashes of lightening had my heart racing. I knew it was a byproduct of my feline-enhanced senses; for once, it was actually a relief to drop my transformation. Making my way across the courtyard and toward class, I could see my classmates were similarly disquieted. Nasty weather of any kind can put people on edge; what made it worse now, I supposed, were the multiple akumas with the unfortunate ability to manipulate Mother Nature the city had faced. I, for one, knew I’d breathe easier when the sun appeared again.

Having something else to focus on for a bit, though, turned out to make the afternoon pass more quickly. Despite managing to avoid Alya, the daggers being shot from her eyes told me it wasn’t over yet; as my best friend, Nino was torn between his loyalty to me and that for his girlfriend, and wound up ignoring both of us for the remainder of the day.

Emotionally drained by the cross currents in the room, I glumly packed my bag at the end of the day and hurried to the locker room to change for fencing practice. I knew I’d be off my game and took extra time to regroup in the locker room while my fellow teammates trouped out into the practice area. I’m not sure _why_ I decided to check the baton at that point – I suppose any sort of cheer to chase away the gloom was desirable – but I found myself locked in a bathroom stall and transformed into Chat Noir before I realized exactly what I was doing.

My heart skipped a bit when I popped open the baton.

**_Marinette:_ ** _I like lasagna. Swing by around nineteen-hundred._

Quickly, I tapped out a reply with my claws.

**_Chat:_ ** _I’ll be there. Leave a light on for me._

The dots appeared and then:

**_Marinette:_ ** _Can’t you see in the dark? I’m shocked._

**_Chat:_ ** _True. But it’ll act more like a beacon for me to find you._

I snapped the baton shut, smiling slightly at the deeper meaning I’d imbued in my response. Dropping my transformation, I bounded out into the fray, fully aware that my mind was going to be preoccupied with my dinner date that evening.


	4. Dinner Under the Stars

When I had impulsively offered to bring dinner, I’d actually not crafted any sort of plan to obtain and then transport said dinner to Marinette. In fact, I’d only made dinner plans as Chat on one other occasion – that horrific night that Ladybug stood me up – and then had only brought what canapes I could carry, all of which had ultimately gone uneaten. But I was determined to make the meal part of Marinette’s healing process, so I began thinking through my options as I showered and changed to return to the mansion after fencing practice.

Gorilla had parked at the base of the steps, and having given my umbrella to Marinette some time ago, wound up dashing through the downpour to the waiting sedan. As I slid into the back seat, thoroughly drenched, I mused on the wisdom of having showered after practice. Fortunately, rain rolled off my Chat costume, so I wasn’t worried about my later expedition; but as I watched the streaks of rain slide past my window, I found myself hoping it would let up before I needed to leave.

The rain provided inspiration for the food angle; not wanting our meal to get soggy led to me realizing I could order something and have it delivered professionally. I’d used a number of restaurants for meals at the mansion, generally when Father was out of town and I was on my own. I just needed to find one that served Italian and could deliver discreetly. Not for the first time was I thankful for having my own credit card, though I was also reasonably certain no one would question such a small transaction among the thousands House of Gabriel had to have made each month.

Nathalie met me by the sedan with an umbrella, and walked me to the door. It was a nice gesture despite my already being soaked, and I thanked her a fraction of a second before she tonelessly provided my evening schedule. She was a mass of contradictions to me; at times, I thought she might even _like_ me, but more often than not, I got the feeling I was just one more thing Father had made her responsible for looking after.

Safely back in my bedroom, Plagg flew out from my shirt and quickly made himself at home in his cheese compartment; I’d explained my overarching plan for the evening to him, and though he wasn’t looking forward to what he called “mush” he hadn’t tried to talk me out of it, either. I counted that as an indirect confirmation I might be on the right track.

I hurdled the couch, Chat-like, and pulled out my cell phone. In a few minutes, I’d located one of my favorite restaurants and scrolled the menu to confirm it had the desired lasagna. One phone call later, I’d successfully ordered a meal for two to be delivered as a “gift” to Marinette just a bit ahead of nineteen-hundred. With luck, Chat would be there waiting for them.

Father did not join me for dinner, and knowing I was going to have a full meal in a few hours, I took very little from the buffet and pushed that around my plate under the watchful gaze of Nathalie. If she thought something was wrong, though, she kept it to herself, and ultimately released me from the torture a little bit after eighteen-hundred.

Ensuring Plagg had topped himself off, I called for my transformation and then opted for escaping through the bathroom. The rain had only intensified, with occasional flashes of lightening illuminating my path toward Marinette and the Bakery. It was a bit of a struggle against the wind, and it delayed me enough that I arrived on the rooftop opposite the bakery just as a nondescript package van pulled up in front of the residence. Looking across I could see Marinette had indeed turned her lights on over the rooftop patio, so I vaulted down toward the sidewalk, dropping in beside a very surprised sous chef.

“Chat Noir?” he said in shock. 

I easily caught in one paw the bag he’d nearly dropped. “I’ll take it from here,” I said, accepting the second bag and bowing. “Thank you!”

I watched the still-shocked sous chef get back into the van and wondered what kind of a story he was going to spin upon his return to the restaurant. Balancing the bags in one paw, I rode my baton up the side of the building to the roof, and hopped off onto the railing before making one more hop to the tile. Marinette had strung some additional canvas over the area, creating a small yet cozy space protected from the rain. She was sitting cross-legged on a checked table cloth, and looked up at my arrival.

“Take these, would you?” I asked, sliding the bags under the canvas but remaining in the rain for a moment. “I need to shake out some of this rain.”

“Okay,” she said a bit bemused.

I stepped a bit further away and quickly shook out my mane, sending waves of water in multiple directions. My hair was really the only casualty; as expected, the rain had essentially rolled right off of my costume, but I took an extra moment to wipe the worst of it off before finally ducking under the tarp. “Good evening,” I said as I ran a claw through my damp locks, trying to regain some semblance of Chat style. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“I am,” she said.

I mirrored her cross-legged position, though as Chat, I was more flexible and definitely more comfortable. Sliding items out of the first bag, I smiled as I presented her with a round aluminum takeaway container, followed in quick succession by utensils and a smaller container with her salad. “I’m afraid sparkling cider is the best I can do,” I said with chagrin, “especially since I know a particularly good red that goes with this dish.”

As she popped the clear plastic top off her container, the rich smell of pasta, cheese and sauce floated past my feline nose. “I guess that answers one question,” she said as she popped the top off of her salad, releasing the complimentary smells of fresh greens and high-quality salad dressing.

“What would that be?” I asked, pulling out the small bin of still-warm rolls and handing them to her. I caught her askance glance and laughed. “I know these are probably not up to scratch, but I didn’t have the heart to cancel them.”

“I won’t tell Papa if you won’t,” she said conspiratorially as she grabbed not one but _two_ rolls from the bin. “Your age,” she added. “Since you can’t purchase wine, I’m assuming you’re not ‘of age.’”

I nodded. “I’m not,” I confirmed. “But I do know my wine, nonetheless.”

“I won’t ask how,” she said, her eyes dancing.

“A cat has to have _some_ secrets, Princess,” I said with mock seriousness. “Here, try some of this baked Brussel sprouts appetizer. I guarantee you’ve never had anything quite like it…”

We ate companionably for the next hour or so, talking about everything and nothing, studiously avoiding the elephant in the room. I made the tactical decision to keep the evening light, hoping that by making her more comfortable in my presence, at some point, she’d relax. Despite how she appeared to be enjoying the evening, I could still see lines of tension in how she was holding herself and how rare appearances of her magnificent smile appeared to be. Granted, my puns were not top shelf, but even Ladybug laughed at them from time to time. I’d have given real money for just one eye roll from Marinette, but none were forthcoming.

By the time we’d gotten to the final container holding my surprise for dessert, the rain had stopped and the clouds had thinned enough to allow a few stars to peek out from the dark sky. I snagged the container and beckoned Marinette over to her railing. “I know you live in a Bakery, run by the best bakers in Paris,” I said as I held the container between us. “But I wanted to share with you one of my favorite treats – outside of the ones I’ve had here.”

She looked at me carefully. “These are special to you,” she said, picking up on something in my masked green eyes.

“Yes,” I said, deciding I could risk revealing a little bit of Adrien. “My mother… used to get these for me on special occasions,” I explained, opting to leave out the fact that it only stopped when she inexplicably disappeared from the face of the planet. “Seeing as this is my first time having dinner with you, I thought it qualified.”

Marinette looked at me, hard. “Chat, what are you doing? _Really_ doing?”

My masked eyes widened a bit. “I’m not sure what you’re asking,” I said, but my face had already started to flush a bit.

“This,” she said, waving her hands at the patio and then the box in my hands. “You’re acting as though we are on some sort of date.”

It dawned on me how she could interpret my actions that evening from that particular frame, and I berated myself for not thinking of it sooner. The flame on the parts of my face not covered by the mask felt like it had gone nuclear. “Marinette, I’m so sorry – that’s not my intent at all. I just wanted you to have a nice evening with a friend. Nothing more.”

She looked at me for a long, hard moment. “You’re absolutely certain about that? Just you and me, as friends? With no strings, no expectations beyond that?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “No strings. I care for you, obviously, and it hurts me to see you hurting. I want nothing more than to get you through this rough patch.” I shifted the box to one paw, and put the other on her shoulder. “Together.”

Marinette put her hand on my paw, her eyes on mine. There was something there, a desire perhaps to get past all of the pain – and for the first time, a willingness to accept help. “I don’t know how long it will take,” she said. “Are you sure you want to be a part of this?”

“Pawsitive,” I said without hesitation.

 _That_ finally brought the smile I was waiting for. “Really? A pun, In that serious moment?”

I smiled my grand Chat smile. “If it brings that smile to your beautiful face, always.”

She continued to look at me, thoughtfully, and seemed to be coming to some sort of decision. I confirmed that when her eyes fell to the small cardboard box in my paws. I rotated it so the cover would open toward my chest, and dramatically pulled the top back to expose a half-dozen traditional cannoli, lightly dusted with powdered sugar. This was the first time I’d had them as Chat, and my super-sensitive feline nose immediately picked up on the amazingly robust ricotta; I could even detect the exact amounts of sugar and spices that had been added. My traitorous mouth started to water, but I held back from snagging one with a claw and instead proffered Marinette the entire box.

Marinette carefully lifted one out and placed in on the napkin I handed her from the other paw. I waited expectantly as she sniffed it herself before taking a rather dainty bite. I started to smile when her face lit up as she chewed. “This is… amazing…” she said, and immediately took a more normal bite, demolishing nearly half of what was left in a single action.

“Yes, it is,” I replied, smiling myself at her happiness. However temporary it might currently be, I knew it was a sign of progress. And I also knew I’d do anything, absolutely _anything_ , to keep that smile on her face.

It didn’t take long for the two of us to make short work of the cannoli, and it seemed like an appropriate point for me to help her clean up and then depart. As we folded up the checked tablecloth, I gave her my megawatt model smile and said, “Thank you for a wonderful evening. As good as the food was, the company was even better.”

Marinette smiled at that as she took the cloth from me. “You don’t get out much, do you Chat?”

“Not really,” I answered honestly. “it’s a bit hard to make new friends wearing this,” I added, waving at my costume with a paw. 

“I’m sure,” she chuckled. “But you must have a life outside of the mask.”

Uncomfortable with how she’d shifted the conversation to me, I laughed a bit nervously and fought the urge to scratch my neck. “Absolutely,” I lied, realizing in that moment I had more of a life as Chat. “But only a few friends like you,” I added. “It’s enough.”

“Is it, I wonder,” she said. “Anyway, I agree with you – it was a wonderful evening. Thank you.”

“You are quite welcome,” I said as I leapt to the rail to return to the mansion. 

“Chat—” she said suddenly as I was starting to coil. 

I turned toward her. “Princess?”

Marinette looked like she wanted to ask something, but a flash of panic washed across her face before she settled it down to a soft smile. Taking a deep breath, she said, simply, “You’re welcome to stop by anytime.”

My heart skipped slightly, and I returned her smile with one of my own. “That means a lot to me, Marinette,” I said. “I guess, then, I’ll see you around,” I laughed as I hurled myself into the evening.

She said it so faintly, even my feline hearing had to strain to hear her call after me. “Yes I will…”


	5. Introspection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are times when I feel like I'm not actually controlling the story any longer. That seems to have happened here; lucky for you, though, that means more frequent updates. As this story begins to heat up, I'll be updating it twice a week from this point forward. --ep

It wasn’t terribly late by Chat standards when I came through the open window of my bathroom and landed on the tile in a crouch; after dropping my transformation, I changed for bed and went through my standard evening routine, mentally reviewing the evening as I did so. I felt like it had gone exceptionally well, and couldn’t help the spring in my step as I pulled out the extra-special wheel of cheese for Plagg

As I slid into bed, I paused before turning down the lights. My kwami had taken up his normal position on the couch, where he would munch through his evening allotment of camembert while watching late night television. The fact that the Kwami of Destruction was infatuated with infomercials and cable news was something I tactfully chose not to remark on.

Tonight, though, I felt like I needed to celebrate a bit, so I slid back out from the sheets and sat beside him on the couch. To my surprise, Plagg had a re-run of _Space: 1999_ on the screen, his eyes wide as he followed what (by my standards) was a classic in terms of miniature filmography. “Which episode?” I asked.

“The first one, when the moon gets blasted out of Earth’s orbit.” he said. I caught him looking at me sideways as he added: “Seemed like an appropriate metaphor.”

My feel-good state of mind started to evaporate.

Plagg returned his attention to the television. “Thankfully, it’s an all-night marathon.” He popped another slice into his mouth. 

I tried not to get engrossed myself; I was a sucker for science fiction, but I also had school in the morning. And in any event, I felt the undercurrent in the room and decided it might just be best to get to the heart of it. “Out with it, Plagg. What’s bothering you?”

He continued to watch the program. “ _Now_ he asks,” he muttered.

I leaned toward him slightly. “Are you mad? At me?” I paused for a moment, finally realizing what was probably on his mind. “You don’t think I’m doing the right thing, do you?” I asked.

“That’s a rather broad question, kid,” he replied.

“With Marinette,” I clarified.

“I don’t do romance advice,” he said flatly. “That’s… someone else’s department.”

“Romance?” I spluttered. “That’s not what I was asking—”

“Isn’t it?” he said, turning finally to look me squarely in the eye. “From where I’m sitting, it sure appears Chat’s making a play for Marinette.”

I could feel my cheeks warming. “No!” I said quickly. “That’s not what I’m doing at all!”

“Look, kid,” he said, ignoring his cheese for a moment. “I get you want to undo what you inadvertently did. But you’re hiding. Hiding behind the Chat mask. You’ve started down a path with Marinette based on a lie.”

“I have _not_ ,” I said, surprising myself with a tinge of anger. “I _am_ not! Chat is more ‘me’ than Adrien! You know that, we’ve _talked_ about it—”

“Adrien,” he said, using a tone that sliced me through and through. “Think about this for a moment. You just had dinner with someone who is, by your own admission, special. She’s invited you to come back.” He paused. “You’re opening a dangerous can of worms. Marinette feels like she’s been betrayed, and here you are, extending a paw in her hour of need.” He turned back to the television. “She’s in a vulnerable place, and one mistake on your part – of any kind – could hurt her even more.” He paused again. “And what happens when she finds out who Chat _really_ is?”

“She won’t,” I said testily. “Besides, I’m not in love with Marinette—”

“ _Really_ ,” Plagg said, swinging back toward me, a scowl on his tiny face. “Oh, right,” he said, his tone pure sarcasm. “You’re ‘just friends.’” 

“Exactly!”

He stared at me for a long moment. “Why didn’t you go to her, as Adrien? Why the subterfuge?”

“She’s not ready to talk to me – to Adrien,” I said. “You’ve seen how she’s acting around me! Besides,” I added, my anger boiling a bit over, “what _exactly_ is Adrien apologizing for? Loving someone else?”

My kwami smiled grimly. “For being a jerk, to begin with,” he said. “An insensitive, uncaring so-called friend who wouldn’t see the obvious if it were handed to him on an engraved platter.”

That stung. “I thought you weren’t doing romance advice,” I snapped, every nerve on edge.

“This is _why_ I don’t.” He turned back to the television, our chat clearly at an end.

Figuratively returning to bed with my tail between my legs, I stared at the ceiling and tried very hard not to think about what Plagg had said. I was angrier than I realized; I’d expected a pat on the back for making some progress with Marinette, and instead had been met with raw, unmitigated disapproval. If his goal had been to make me reconsider my actions, though, I had to admit it was working – to a point.

Plagg wasn’t wrong. The prudent route would have been Adrien addressing it with Marinette directly; unknowingly or not, I’d used my Chat persona for protective cover to avoid that uncomfortable confrontation. On the other paw, though, my efforts _as_ Chat had the end goal of making such a conversation tolerable and, hopefully, less painful to everyone. How could that be wrong? 

But now I was wondering if I was deluding myself. _Was_ I going about this the wrong way? And was Plagg right – was Chat stepping in at the wrong moment, creating a connection with Marinette that would wind up hurting both of us later? A cold shiver ran through me; as much as I valued Marinette as a friend, my heart was for Ladybug. I’d nearly said that to her at dinner, actually; for some reason, it had died on my lips. It was not a secret how I felt about my partner – it had been and continued to be a vibrant topic of discussion in the chat boards of the Ladyblog. Looking back at the evening now, with some distance and perspective, I could see how weak my “no strings” assertion to Marinette was.

_Holy catnip. Instead of making this better, I’ve dug my hole even deeper, haven’t I?_

Sleep came in fits and starts, and I was awake long before my alarm buzzed. For the second day in a row, I arrived at school bleary-eyed and barely coherent. Thankfully I didn’t have to deal with an early-morning akuma, but a few steps into the courtyard made me wish I had. For Marinette had returned – though she was ringed by a protective cocoon of friends. The most I could do was wave at her on my way to our classroom, where I found I was sitting completely alone until a few moments before the bell. At that moment, the entire class appeared and took their seats, with nearly everyone studiously avoiding making eye contact with me.

Even Nino appeared to be on point, barely acknowledging me. By lunchtime, when I found myself completely alone at a table meant for eight, I started to think how attractive home schooling was looking. Sitting there, munching on a really lousy carrot, Plagg floated up from where he’d taken refuge in my bag, but hovered just below the table.

“This is cozy,” he said with barely restrained sarcasm. “Got any cheese up there?”

“I don’t get it,” I said quietly, slipping him a piece from my plate. “How is it the _entire_ school is on her side?”

“Kid, how many days ago was the Grevin?”

“What does _that_ have to do with anything?”

He sighed – something he didn’t often do. “Each day longer you go without saying something – without apologizing to her, as Adrien – the worse this is going to get. From their perspective, you’ve become a rather callous, uncaring human.” He crept to the edge of the table and looked toward Chloe. “And when even _she_ won’t talk to you…”

I groaned. He was right – Chloe, of all people, was avoiding me, too, and she wasn’t exactly known for her good graces. “But I’m not ready!” I whispered urgently.

“Whatever,” he said as he disappeared back into my shirt.

Appetite suddenly gone, I flung the carrot back onto my tray and tossed the whole thing into the trash, making a run for the cafeteria exit. Without thinking about it consciously, I dashed down the steps, across the courtyard and into the service stairwell that went to the roof, blindly calling for my transformation as I took the steps two at a time. Bursting onto the roof as Chat, I ran to the façade and leapt up to a particular nook I had used before, curling into the embrace of the concrete and trying to shut out the world.

I was floored at how my friends were acting, but I’d given them good reason too, hadn’t I? Everyone liked Marinette – well, with the exception of Chloe and Lila, purrhaps – so I could see why they were giving Adrien the cold shoulder. It was what I was trying to explain to Plagg earlier, how difficult it would be for me – as Adrien – to talk to Marinette directly. Not without some prepwork by Chat.

The sun was pleasantly warm as I curled into a tighter ball, something I could only really accomplish while transformed. As tired as I was, and as emotionally drained as I felt, it didn’t take much for me to close my eyes and give in to the temptation to snooze the rest of the lunch hour away. I woke with a start to the buzzing of my baton, which I snagged from my back and popped open.

Ladybug’s small image appeared, and she looked worried. “Chat! Where are you?”

“On a roof.” I paused and added, slightly sheepishly, “Getting in a quick catnap – the sun’s purrfect today and it’s been a long couple of days. To what do I owe the pleasure, Milady?”

“We’ve got a missing student,” she said, her eyes wide with concern. “Meet me at Dupont?”

“Sure,” I said, adding a bit guiltily, “I’m here already, actually.”

“Oh,” she said, a bit nonplussed. “I’ll be right there.”

She clicked off and I dropped out of the façade to the rooftop proper. The sun’s angle was lower than it should have been, and checking the baton again told me I’d not only slept through lunch, I’d missed the rest of the afternoon, too. With a dread of certainty, I suspected I knew who the missing student was.

The _zing_ of Ladybug’s yo-yo presaged her appearance, and I turned toward her as she landed next to me. “Good thing you’re already here,” she said. “We’ll start the search at Dupont and radiate outward. We’re looking for Adrien Agreste.”

“The model?”

“Yes,” she said, concern etched into her face. “He was last seen at lunch, leaving the cafeteria. But he’s not been home or in class since; his bodyguard arrived out front to take him to his tutor, and that’s when he came up missing.”

This was just getting better and better. Now I’d have to find myself, while still being Chat Noir. I had absolutely no idea how I was going to pull _that_ off. “Should we split up?” I suggested, thinking I might be able to place myself in her path – as Adrien – if I knew where she was going to search.

“Good idea,” she said. “I’ll start in the basement and work my way to the courtyard; you start up here and meet me there?”

“Purrfect,” I said. I started to go, and then paused; Ladybug seemed especially on edge. “Don’t worry, Milady, we’ll find him.”

She nodded and flipped over lip of the roof to the courtyard below. I made as if I was about to search the roof but once my feline ears heard her entering the stairwell for the basement, I ran to the edge myself and curled over it, dropping to the courtyard in a crouch. I tried to ignore the queasy feeling lying to Ladybug had created. 

Quickly, I scanned the space, looking for a plausible spot that Adrien could be “found.” Nothing seemed logical at all, and then I hit upon another plan entirely. Bounding across the space to my protected nook behind the stairwell, I dropped my transformation long enough to text Gorilla my apology, creating another lie that I’d impulsively decided to walk home from school and had been distracted by friends; the angry reply came almost instantly, demanding my current location so he could pick me up. I thought quickly and chose a spot I thought I could make, then, quickly calling for my transformation, bounded out across the courtyard, speed dialing Ladybug as I raced for the giant doors. 

“Found him in the library, Milady, and am hustling him to his very angry bodyguard now.” What was one more lie? In for a pound… “Meet me on the steps?” 

“On my way,” she said, clicking off immediately.

Bursting through the massive double doors, I vaulted to the bottom of the steps and landed in a crouch just as Gorilla peeled away from the curb. Ladybug landed next to me a moment later, fruitlessly trying to see through the tinted windows of the sedan as it sped away.

“He’s in big, big trouble,” I said, perhaps the most truth I’d offered Ladybug that afternoon.

“I’m sure,” she replied. “I’ll go tell Principal Damocles we found him.” Something in the way she said that told me she’d much prefer to run down the sedan and confirm Adrien’s wellbeing. I tried not to look affronted.

“Great,” I said, “I’ve got to scat anyway.”

Something passed over her face, but then she was trotting up the steps and away from me. I waited a heartbeat and then vaulted into the air on my baton, moving as fast as I could through the sky in an attempt to give some truth to at least one lie. I caught the sedan six blocks from the mansion and, pushing hard, managed to get ahead of it a bit and to find an alleyway where I could drop my transformation.

Gorilla came screaming around the corner, nearly on two wheels, to find Adrien briskly walking toward the mansion. He skidded to stop next to me, and I slid into the backseat silently. Conversation was never his strong suit in the best of circumstances, and since we were far from _that_ at the moment, I wisely kept my own council as we continued on toward the mansion.

As I watched Paris speed by, I knew a serious chewing out was coming, and quite possibly a major grounding; that paled in comparison to the bigger problems I was facing. And if I were truly honest with myself, I was starting to wonder if I was up to the task.

For the first time, I was thinking I wasn’t.


	6. Second Thoughts

It wasn’t often I faced Father and his discipline; I’d seen more of it shortly after my mother disappeared, perhaps as a way for him to place some order on the sudden chaos we were experiencing. As I became more and more of the model of what he expected (in all senses), the tough talk had faded. I’d often wondered how I might have channeled some of those impulses I fought to stifle for Father had Chat Noir not come along when he did; Chat provided me with a much needed outlet to be who I was, or who I thought I was supposed to be. Something quite far away from the idealized son Father had made me into.

The school incident brought the worst of it back. As I stood there in his atelier – a domain I rarely ventured into – his quiet fury was still every bit as frightening as it had been when I was younger. I would have preferred him yelling at me, actually, just like the parents I’d seen on television shows I’d streamed from the web; this tense silence as his eyes bored into me was unnerving.

Still, I’d learned a thing or two being Chat, and where before I’d likely have stood, head down, slightly wilting under the intense gaze, I was instead matching his gaze with my own intense expression. Whatever he intended to do, I was telegraphing as best as I could that I was my own force to be reckoned with.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally pursed his lips and started to speak, hands at his side but spasmodically clenching. “If you recall, I was not in favor of you attending public school. Your actions today speak volumes as to how you feel about this… opportunity… I have granted you.”

“Father---”

“You are clearly associating with students of poor character. Skipping an afternoon of lessons, and then missing your extracurriculars so you could spend time with them will not be tolerated.”

He strode toward the picture of my mother, the message implicit. “You’re grounded for two months. Your bodyguard will now accompany you into school and be stationed near you at all times, a visual reminder to both you and your friends that this will never happen again.”

I nodded. There was no point in protesting, though I was going to have to get creative if I needed to deal with an akuma. On the other paw, the mental image of Gorilla trying to fold himself behind one of our desks nearly had me laughing, which would have made matters much, much worse. I furiously leaned into my model training to keep my contrite expression in place.

“Your tutoring will take place here in the mansion. And either your bodyguard or Nathalie will accompany you to your sport practices as schedules permit.” He turned back toward me. “There will be no further unplanned adventures. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Father.”

“I would also advise you to carefully review your associates.” 

“Yes, _Father_ ,” I repeated, with a very subtle emphasis. Despite how they may currently be treating me, there was no way I’d do that. 

He turned on heel again. “I believe your dinner is waiting, and then your piano.”

More for his benefit, I dropped my head slightly and carefully trudged out of the room, knowing I would definitely be eating alone. Again.

Being fairly hungry for once, I made several trips to the buffet under the watchful eyes of Nathalie. Trying to keep the contrite act going, I bit back several sarcastic comments and managed to simply eat in silence and return to my room reasonably unscathed. Plagg floated out from my shirt but didn’t go far; he was eyeing me with the mischievous smile that usually presaged trouble.

“What?” I asked, arching an eyebrow as I headed toward the piano. I sat down and halfheartedly plunked some sour notes out on the ivories. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m grounded, remember?”

“And when was the last time _that_ stopped Chat Noir from escaping this prison?” he smiled impishly.

I glared at him. “Not twenty hours ago you were telling me I was scratching the wrong post. Now you’re _encouraging_ me to go visit Marinette? As Chat, no less?”

“Despite what I said yesterday – and I still stand by it, mind you – after what I just witnessed downstairs, it would do _you_ good to get out tonight.” He looked at me, the impish smile slightly wider.

“I wouldn’t disagree with that,” I said grudgingly. “But—"

“Besides,” Plagg interrupted, “she said you could drop in anytime. And I’m still hungry.” He waited for a beat, then meaningfully started toward my open window. “If you don’t go, I will.”

A knot of dread formed in my stomach. “You wouldn’t do that,” I said, trying to call his bluff. _Hoping_ to call his bluff.

“In a heartbeat,” he said, and darn it if he didn’t start to move faster.

“Plagg! You’re not supposed to reveal yourself to anyone! You _can’t_ go!”

Without turning, and with a tone that brooked no dissent, he said simply, “I am the Kwami of Destruction. I go where I please.”

“ _Plagg_!” I nearly hissed, catching myself at the last minute and making it more human sounding. He was ignoring me now and continued moving, speeding up even more. Plagg had deserted me once, and I had no desire for him to do it again. Fighting my panic, I leapt off the couch. 

“ _Plagg! Claws out!_ ” I fairly yelled as he hit the windowsill; the last thing I saw on his tiny face before he merged with my ring was a self-satisfied smirk, having successfully goaded me into transforming. Not for the first time I wondered who the master in this relationship was.

Once the green glow of the transformation had faded, I stood at the edge of my window, feline ears twitching with the activity taking place in the city. Leaving the mansion so soon after going MIA at school was a terrible idea, but I had to admit I had no great desire to practice the piano, either. I somersaulted over the couch and landed next to the phone dock, and deftly tapped my claws on the interface to queue up a few hours of practice music. Despite having once been caught out with this particular trick, it still seemed to work like a champ for my nightly prowling.

And if I were honest, I _was_ out and about as Chat just about every night. 

Most evenings I was on my own, simply enjoying the freedom of _not_ being Adrien; others, Ladybug and I were on one of our formal patrols or dealing with whatever late-night debacle Hawkmoth threw our way. I had gotten pretty used to only four or five hours of rest as a result, though the past few extended evenings with Marinette were taxing my ability to recharge and rebound.

Vaulting back over the couch and springing off my coffee table, I cleared the window and made my way into the dark, cloudy evening toward the Bakery. There really was no reason for me to appear on Marinette’s patio that evening save a rather selfish desire to not be alone. But my conversation with Plagg was also preying on my mind, and as I approached the cheery lights of her cozy spot, I found myself slowing with uncertainty. Second thoughts loomed large, and I dropped down on a rooftop close to hers to crouch on the tile, seriously questioning what I was about. 

I couldn’t shake what he’d said, no matter how hard I tried. His push to get me out, though, was equally as perplexing and contradictory to his rather animated diatribe against my original plan (such as it was). In the end, the patter of raindrops against the tile spurred me on toward the potential comfort of the covered patio.

Landing with a rubbery thump, I rolled under the canopy Marinette still had strung over her patio and came up in my crouch. She wasn’t there, but cocking my feline ears, I could sense she was in the room below – and from her movements, had heard me land. A moment later, she appeared in the skylight.

“Chat,” she smiled warmly. “C’mon, get in out of this rain,” she said, beckoning me into her room.

I felt myself swallow. I’d been in her room multiple times as Adrien, and only twice as Chat, most recently when I’d managed to akumatize her father after that disaster of a Sunday brunch. I tried to ignore the trend that was developing as I crept toward the skylight on all fours. “Are you sure? I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

“Nonsense. Get in here.”

For a strange second, an observation I’d made to Ladybug back when we were fighting that overgrown snow cone popped into my head. “It’s not cool playing with people’s feelings,” I had said, still smarting over her standing me up earlier that evening.

Was I doing the same thing now? For I could see the smile of anticipation on Marinette’s face; she was genuinely happy to see me. Chat had clearly made more progress than I’d realized, and if I were being honest with myself, it hadn’t really taken much of a nudge from Plagg to get me to visit. I found my usual self-assurance as Chat faltering and I paused at the edge of her skylight.

Marinette caught something in my expression. “What’s wrong, Chat?”

 _I’m Adrien, actually, and I’m insanely torn up about what happened; since I have no idea how to fix it, I’ve been using Chat to try and patch things up. And now I think I’m making it worse. In fact, I think you’re falling for Chat. And… and maybe I’m falling for you,_ I wanted to say.

“I… I didn’t realize how late it was, Purrincess,” I actually said. “I really need to go. Raincheck, though?”

She arched an eyebrow at me, either clearly seeing through my fabrication or at the cheesy pun but thought it wiser to let it go. Instead, Marinette upped the ante. “Of course – and if you come tomorrow night, I’ll repay your dinner with a dinner.”

“All right,” I smiled outwardly, while inwardly groaning. “Tomorrow it is.”

Smiling still, Marinette closed the skylight, saying as she did: “It’s a date, then.”

It was the _last_ thing I’d wanted to hear.


	7. Date, Interrupted

For the third night in a row, I didn’t get much sleep. The purrsonal revelation I was finding myself attracted to my friend demanded my attention in a way that I couldn’t explain. I loved Ladybug – I had from the moment I’d met her, tangled together in her yo-yo that first day we’d worked together as partners. And yet, I couldn’t deny something had begun to stir in my heart for Marinette.

That’s _not_ how this was supposed to work.

I wanted to get her back on her feet, emotionally, and back into her friendship with my civilian alter-ego; that was as far as I’d been prepared to go. But my feline brain had soaked up every last bit of what she had said to me in the sedan, and it had apparently been percolating along happily in the background, adjusting my perspective on how I viewed my friend. Tossing and turning, no easy answers came, nor did sleep of any kind.

Giving up entirely about five, I took an extremely long, extremely hot shower and tried to focus. Like it or not, I’d committed to a date with Marinette that evening. The best-case scenario was continuing to help her along the path toward reconciling with Adrien; the worst case – and one that was totally possible now – was seeing Chat kick Adrien to the curb and take his spot inside Marinette’s heart. 

My mind kept going to oatmeal each time I realized I was somehow competing with myself for her affections. It was mind-numbingly hilarious, if the emotional stakes hadn’t felt so serious.

True to Father’s threat, Gorilla walked me into school – though, thankfully, not by the hand – and proceeded to take a seat in the back of my classroom, which was empty once more. My disappearance the prior day had done nothing to win back any supporters, and I was nearly certain seeing my keeper would not improve their opinion of me. Tired in more ways than one, I decided not to prevent Chat from creeping into my attitude; as the bell rang and my classmates hurried in en masse, I carefully and deliberately made eye contact with each student, holding longest on Marinette as she entered the room.

Most hurried past me, possibly embarrassed by my direct recognition of their shunning; Marinette, however, paused at my desk. “Adrien,” she said, coolly.

“Mari,” I replied. Part of me wanted to say something truly significant, but the best I came up with was, “I’m glad you’re feeling better. I’m… really happy… to see you.”

She looked at me a moment longer, possibly hoping I’d say more. When it became obvious I’d lost my voice, she continued on to her desk. It wasn’t much, but I thought the fact she had even stopped was a start. 

The morning remained blissfully uneventful, though I did reprise my solo dining performance in the cafeteria; technically, Gorilla sat with me, but the lack of interaction with me or the world in general made me feel more alone than if he’d not been there at all. Afternoon classes kicked off with a bang, when our teacher assigned us a project due in three weeks.

Normally, Marinette would have done anything to finagle her way into being my partner; this time out, she remained silent and allowed Alya to nab her. To my surprise, though, Nino joined them and made a threesome; with everyone else paired off, I found myself flying solo once more. Absolutely no one in the room was willing to take me on, and even the teacher looked embarrassed on my behalf.

It was a bit of a body blow, emotionally. While I thought I had been close to the three now sitting behind me, the other students in class were more like acquaintances. More than ever, I found myself questioning what, exactly, friendship was supposed to be. Clearly I’d messed up mine with Marinette, but now I wasn’t sure if I’d ever had anything real with my classmates.

By the end of the day, Mademoiselle Bustier had taken one final look across the class and frowned. Turning her gaze on me briefly, it flicked up to someone over my shoulder. In an instant, I knew what she was going to do, and started to raise my hand. “Mademoiselle—”

“Marinette, you usually partner with Adrien, don’t you?” our teacher asked. 

There was a long, uncomfortable silence, and I could feel my cheeks starting to flame. “Yes,” came the quiet response from behind me.

“Adrien? Marinette? Would the two of you see me please? As for the rest of you, enjoy your weekend. I’ll see you back here on Monday.”

Dreading what was coming, I glumly packed my bags and trudged to the desk at the front of the class; Marinette joined me a moment later. Gorilla had the good sense to stay in his seat at the back of the room. I resisted the urge to look at Marinette, and I could sense she was doing the same; both of us were fixing our stares on our teacher.

Mademoiselle Bustier looked at us. “I don’t know what has happened between the two of you, and to be honest, I’m a bit disappointed in how you are handling whatever it was. To see the class acting as it has been is unacceptable, and your behavior is completely out of character.”

Getting reamed out twice in less than a day was terrible, but it felt even worse coming from the lovely soul that was Mademoiselle Bustier. I could feel my face going dark crimson.

“You two will partner on this project, and you will use it as an opportunity to address whatever problem exists.”

Marinette started to object. “I don’t think—”

“This is not up for debate, Marinette.” She looked between us again. “Is that understood?”

“Yes,” I said simply.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Marinette nod; I could also see she had that expression she often got when she felt like she’d been thrust into an unfair situation. This time around, I could completely empathize.

“Good. Enjoy your weekend.”

Marinette fled from the classroom before I could even turn to say anything; Gorilla was suddenly behind me, a hand on my shoulder as an unsubtle reminder my life was most definitely not under my control. For the first time that day, I’d begun to look forward to my clandestine dinner with Marinette.

Escaping the mansion proved to be more difficult than I expected, however. After I pushed the food around on my plate once more at dinner, Nathalie chose to sit in on my piano practice, forcing me to go through the entire program Father was planning on having me perform at some gala later in the month. I’d memorized the piece out of the gate, but it was a dry, sparse number from a Russian composer I wasn’t particularly fond of, and it showed in my recital. Nathalie was not amused, insisting I play it twice more with more feeling.

Tired and getting cranky, I managed to pull off something that she liked on my fourth run through the piece, all the while wondering what normal teenagers did on Friday night. When she finally left, it was close to nineteen-hundred and I feared I’d missed my window with Marinette. I transformed as soon as I thought the coast was clear and sailed out the bedroom window, hurrying across Paris as fast as my feline abilities would allow.

My first warning that the evening was going to go downhill further appeared when I drew close to the Bakery. The patio lights were not on, and my superior feline vision confirmed Marinette was not stargazing, either. Cautiously, I circled around and then landed on the main chimney for the Bakery with a rubbery thump, swiveling my head to ensure that Marinette was nowhere to be found.

“Marinette?” I called out quietly, but I knew the space was clear.

I dropped down to the railing below and perched. Listening intently, my feline ears couldn’t detect her in her room, either; that piqued my curiosity. While we’d not set a specific time to meet, I wasn’t terribly late by Chat standards. I strained a bit further and thought I heard voices, but they were further below.

But getting closer.

Hopping down to the patio, I skulked over to the skylight and leaned an ear toward it. The voices were getting louder, and I was sure now it was Marinette. But she was with someone – and as I heard her enter her bedroom, I suddenly thought better of her finding me eavesdropping at her skylight.

Cognizant that she could hear _me_ if I weren’t careful, I went into full stealth mode and scuttled across her patio, whisking behind the brick wall off to one side. Pressing myself into the shadows, I was reasonably certain I could remain hidden long enough to escape over the side of the building. One of the benefits of being a black cat was the ability to blend into the night.

The skylight scraped open, and Marinette came out, talking as she went. “—welcome respite,” she was saying. “I appreciate you breaking me out.”

“Girl, what are friends for?”

My heart sank. 

_Alya_. 

I was nearly certain she’d spearheaded the class action against me; instead of going over the side, I held my breath to see if I could get an idea of what further shaming actions were in store for my alter ego.

“I dunno what I’m going to do,” I heard Marinette say after the two of them took up positions on the rail facing the river. That was a bit of a problem, for if they turned around, despite being in shadow, I’d be in clear view. I was thankful it was a moonless evening, and that Marinette had left the lights off.

“You certainly can’t be sick again,” Alya advised. I heard her pause. “Maybe this is a good chance for you to lay it all out for Adrien.”

“Why?” I heard Marinette say. 

“He needs to understand what kind of a jerk he’s been,” Alya said hotly.

“What’s the point? He doesn’t love me, he loves someone else.” Marinette sighed. “And to be honest, I’m not sure I’m as upset about it as I was initially. In fact, it might have done me some good to hear what he said.”

My feline ears perked up.

Alya seemed to be on my wavelength. “What are you saying? You’ve already forgiven him?”

“Maybe,” Marinette said. “I mean, I can’t really be mad for him loving someone other than me, can I?”

“I guess not,” Alya said, but her tone indicated some dubiousness. There was another long pause, and then I nearly heard the penny drop for Alya. “Wait. There’s someone else now, isn’t there?”

Marinette chuckled. “Maybe,” she said, and I could hear the happiness in her voice.

 _Oh no_ , I thought. I remained motionless, fearing what I was about to hear, yet knowing I about to get confirmation of what I already had suspected. I might have gotten her over Adrien, but--

“Who?” Alya demanded. “Who is it?”

“It’s kind of funny, actually,” I heard Marinette chuckle a bit more. “I’ve known him for a long time now, but only recently seen him for who he was. He’s kind, considerate, always a gentleman, constantly doing the right thing no matter the cost. And he’d do anything for anyone.”

“ _WHO IS IT?_ ” Alya practically yelled.

“Promise me you won’t laugh?”

“I promise, unless you keep me hanging any longer.”

There was a long pause, and then, straining my feline ears to their limit, I heard Marinette whisper: “Chat Noir.”

My jaw hit the ground and my feline ears went straight up. I was right -- so much for having her move on; she swapped me… for me. She just didn't know it yet. I could feel Plagg laughing.

“Chat… Noir?” Alya shrieked. “Oh. My. _God_! You’re dating _Chat Noir!_ ”

“I don’t know if I’d call it dating per se, but he’s a frequent visitor. More frequently since the Grevin. He actually stopped by that same day just to check on me.”

“Details! I want all the details!”

“Of course,” Marinette laughed. “But you have to promise me to keep this off the Ladyblog and between us.”

“If I have to,” Alya said. “Now—"

“Oh no!” Marinette suddenly cried out. “I totally forgot! He was supposed to come for dinner tonight! I’m losing my mind.” I heard her fumbling for her phone. “That’s odd, he didn’t text… oh my God! What if he swung by and didn’t find me? He’s going to think I stood him up!”

Marinette was on the verge of melting down, that much I could tell; quietly, I started to work my way toward the rear wall, preparatory to escaping so I could re-appear on cue.

“I’ve ruined it already! He’s going to hate me—”

“Calm down, girl,” Alya said gently. “Maybe he got called away and didn’t have a chance to text you.”

I silently slipped over the edge upside down and dropped to a ledge under one of the windows of her bedroom. Another hop and I was across the alleyway and clinging to the shadows of the building next to the Bakery. Sliding out my baton, I triggered extension mode and rode it to the rooftop, deftly hopping off onto the parapet ringing the space. Crouched there, far enough out of human earshot, I swapped to phone mode and speed-dialed Marinette.

Unsurprisingly, Marinette’s face immediately appeared on the screen. “Chat?” she asked.

I shifted slightly, realizing I was in shadow. “Hey, Princess,” I smiled. “Sorry, I got a claw snagged in something earlier – I’m running wildly late. Are we still on for tonight? Or can we regroup tomorrow?”

She smiled at me, a genuinely warm smile. “I have a confession: I completely forgot you were coming tonight.” She paused. “Stop in for brunch? Tomorrow morning?”

“Uh…” I started, remembering what happened the last time I was there for brunch.

“I’ll pack a picnic basket,” she said quickly, “as long as you don’t mind providing the transportation.”

“Okay,” I said, unsure of how I’d pull off an early morning adventure from the mansion.

“Great!” Marinette said excitedly. “See you tomorrow – around eight?”

“I’ll be there with a bell on,” I said, smiling. As her image faded from my screen, I slowly slid my baton shut, realizing I had, indeed, managed to throw Adrien under the bus. 

Oddly, it didn’t hurt as much as I expected it would.


	8. Unexpected Opportunity

I tumbled through the open window of my bedroom and landed in a crouch, and much as few nights earlier, simply stayed in that position. My head was still spinning slightly on the events of the evening, and a part of me was leaning toward vaulting right back out that window to roam the night a bit longer. While I knew temporarily running away from my troubles would not be productive, neither did I have a great desire to talk it out with Plagg.

It _was_ Friday night, after all, so prowling won out and I backflipped over my television and landed on the windowsill, pausing only to retrieve my baton. I was turning to leap out into the night when one of my feline ears swiveled, picking up footfalls heading toward my bedroom.

I couldn’t believe I’d been distracted enough that I’d not heard it earlier; my eyes darted through the room, knowing I had mere seconds before my unanticipated visitor arrived – not nearly enough time to detransform without being detected. One massive leap and I hit the floor in front of my bathroom in a tuck-and-roll, coming out of it and snagging the edge of the sliding door with a claw in a smooth movement. I glided it shut just as the door to my bedroom opened.

Heart beating wildly, I pressed myself against the door. Like the bedroom, the bathroom door had no lock. 

“Adrien?” I heard.

_Nathalie._

Well aware that my voice as Chat was different than Adrien, I coughed slightly. “Bathroom,” I called out.

“Okay, I’ll wait.”

Not the response I’d hoped for; to my horror, I heard her move toward my desk and take up position to wait. Far too close not to hear or see some aftereffect of my transformation sequence. My feline eyes frantically scanned the small space for some ideas, and landed on the jacuzzi tub humming away in the far corner.

The cat part of me groaned. What was it with water this week?

Quickly and soundlessly, I moved to the tub, and eased myself into the pleasantly warm water. “Uh, it might be a bit,” I called back, tactically splashing the water against the edge with one now-soggy paw, while triggering the next-higher jet function with the other.

Nathalie had to have been at the door, for she seemed to react to the increased humming of the tub. “Oh!” she said, slightly nonplussed, something I hardly ever heard from her. My better feline hearing heard her mutter under her breath, “Kind of late for a bath,” before saying, louder, “I… uh… just wanted to update you on tomorrow’s schedule. You’ve got an early morning shoot at the park; I’ll need to have you up by six.”

“Okay!” I said, splashing again for good measure. “I’ll be ready.”

“Good,” she replied hastily. “Pleasant dreams,” she added as she exited my bedroom from the door nearest the bathroom.

I let out the breath I’d been holding, and then allowed myself to sink into the tub fully. That was the closest I’d come yet to being discovered at the mansion, and it took a few minutes for the anxiety to subside. Given how things were going, though, it would just about have been par for the course.

Hauling myself out of the tub, I shook out my mane as I padded toward the towels hanging on the wall, catching my bedraggled appearance in the mirror. Per usual, my hair was really the only thing drenched; my costume had once more suffered no ill effects. “Plagg – claws in.”

The green flash of transformation washed over me and Plagg appeared at my shoulder, watching me watch him in the mirror. Save for some dampness in my hair, I was otherwise completely dry. “I wasn’t wrong,” he said with that same self-satisfied smirk he’d worn earlier.

“No,” I said. “And thanks to you, now Chat has an official date.”

“Me?” he said, holding a small paw to his chest. “I had nothing to do with it.”

I turned and leaned a hip on the counter, facing him, arms crossed. “You goaded me into visiting tonight.”

“Admit it,” he said, smiling at me infuriatingly. “You wanted to go. And you are actually looking forward to tomorrow.”

I was on the cusp of denying everything, but realized I couldn’t. 

Plagg saw it in my face, and his smile grew larger. “So now we have to figure out how you escape tomorrow,” he said cheerfully as he phased through the door of the bathroom.

“Wait just a second,” I said, darting after him after sliding the door open. “Can we talk about this?”

“About what?”

“Plagg,” I said softly, “I think I _have_ fallen for Marinette.” I stopped at my chair, and absently ran my hands along it’s back. “I don’t know what to do about it. And I think it’s going to complicate matters.”

“As Chat? Or as Adrien?”

“Is there a difference?” I sighed, wandering to the air hockey table and leaning down on it, palms-first. “For now, I can only be Chat with her,” I said, looking up at my kwami. “But you were on to something earlier. At some point I am going to have to be honest with her.” I swallowed, hard. “I’m going to have to tell Marinette who I am.”

For once, Plagg took on a look of compassion. “You might at some point,” he said quietly, “but you definitely can’t reveal who you are until you’ve patched things up between her and Adrien.” He paused as his tiny green eyes met my emerald ones. “You _do_ love her, don’t you?”

I swallowed again. “I think I do, and for some strange reason, I also feel like I’m betraying Ladybug.” I looked away. “I can’t love both of them, can I?”

“No,” Plagg said with some sympathy. I felt his arm on my bicep, though, as he added, “I mean, you _can_ love them in different ways, of course, but not the way you’re thinking.”

I smiled a bit wryly at my tiny friend. “I thought you didn’t do romantic advice.”

“I don’t,” he huffed as he pulled away, but I knew better.

As I changed for bed and slid between the sheets, I realized with a start Nathalie had provided us with exactly what we needed and pointed it out to Plagg. “That park is directly opposite the Bakery,” I added. “We just need some masterful diversion so I can sneak away without being missed.”

“Let me think on it,” Plagg said as he settled in beside me on the pillow.

Past experience warned me I should be worried that the Kwami of Destruction was formulating a plan, but the look of intensity on his tiny face had me decide against pressing him further.

The past few late nights caught up with me, and I dropped into a deep, dreamless sleep almost immediately. Plagg’s gentle nudging at my shoulder woke me with a start. “I’ve got it,” he said triumphantly. “And you need to get up now to be ready for when Miss Task Master gets here.”

I blinked a few times to clear the cobwebs. “What time is it?”

“Five-thirty.”

I pushed myself out of bed and hurried through my morning routine, and was carefully prepped and waiting when Nathalie arrived at six on the dot. The woman couldn’t possibly sleep at all, and yet she looked as pulled together as always. 

“The sedan is waiting,” she said as I followed her down the steps and out into the still-dark morning.

The three of us drove over to the park, and I stared out the window wondering what Plagg had come up with. Under normal circumstances, it would be fairly easy to slip past Gorilla and return without him being the wiser; with Nathalie also on the scene, though, my movements would be very closely watched. I tried to suppress a smile when I realized Father had a right to worry; whether he’d known it or not, I’d rather routinely used photoshoots and the inherit down time between sets to explore Paris without fear of being missed. Becoming Chat had made it a little easier to avoid detection, though on more than one occasion it was for business: I’d have to take off to help Ladybug defeat Hawkmoth’s latest akuma.

As the sedan pulled up at the park, I could see the bright lights coming on around the first shot of the day, apparently near the magnificent fountain and just a stone’s throw from the bronze statue of Chat and Ladybug. It was rich irony I’d be working next to a life-size statue of my alter-ego – one completely lost on my companions.

I started to open the door to the sedan only to feel Plagg as he moved from my shirt. Surprised, I turned and watched him phase through the back of Nathalie’s seat; I thought I’d lost him until I saw a telltale green and black flash coming from her tablet. Instantly her tablet turned brown and started to crumble.

Nathalie, normally the picture of composure, screamed and hurled herself out of the sedan, trailing little wisps of what had been her tablet behind her. Instantly, Gorilla was out of the car, quickly running around the hood to Nathalie. I decided to play along as well and slid to that side of the car, pushed open the passenger door and dropped down to her where she sat on the sidewalk. 

She was dazed, but unlike most people who see Cataclysm in action up close, didn’t seem all that amazed. That puzzled me, but I filed it away and channeled some of my post-akuma Chat compassion. “Hey, hey,” I said as I tried to help her sit back up, “it’s over. It’s okay.”

Nathalie looked at me, eyes distant. “That’s never happened… before…”

My eyes caught Gorilla’s. “Must have been a defective battery?” I offered. “I read about a phone that spontaneously exploded on an airplane once,” I continued, looking back at Nathalie. “I guess you were lucky your tablet just… disintegrated…”

“Lucky…” Nathalie echoed.

I looked up at Gorilla. “She needs to go home,” I said.

I could tell he agreed with me, but also felt the obligation to stay and monitor me.

“I’ve learned my lesson,” I said, smiling my most disarming model smile. “I’ll be right here when you get back.”

He nodded and the two of us helped Nathalie into the back seat. As the sedan screamed away from the curb, Plagg reappeared by my side. I tossed him a slice of cheese. “Didn’t see that coming,” I said admiringly. “Should I be worried about what other surprises you have planned?”

“Probably,” he laughed as he accepted a second slice. Now I understood why he’d wanted me to pack extra today. “Go to hair and makeup, and I’ll join you when it’s time to leave.”

“Okay,” I said, arching an eyebrow. “But Gorilla will be back---”

“Not any time soon,” Plagg smiled. “Let’s just say the battery in the sedan has sprung a leak.”

I smiled wider and gave him a third slice. “You’ve earned your keep today.”

“Don’t I always?” he asked, eyes narrowed as he floated away.

Working my way across the chaos that was a photoshoot, I found my trailer and entered; there was just one chair, and the artist there quickly took me in and started to work on me. I knew the drill and zoned out as she fussed over my hair and then started applying copious amounts of makeup to my face. I hated that part the most, and lived in fear of a social media post exposing what went on backstage at these seemingly glamourous events. About an hour later, she pulled away, clucking over me as she whisked off the apron.

“Perfect,” she said. “Now –”

“I know, Cheryl,” I said. “Don’t mess it up.”

She laughed as she packed her things and headed out to work on whoever else was shooting with me that morning. The food on the counter was clearly mocking me, for one of the first rules of modelling was pretty much no eating after makeup. I sighed, fantasizing about the bagel that was perched on top of the pile. 

There was a small clock on the counter and it read half past seven. I guessed the shoot would start around eight, and pondered what Plagg had in store to break me out in order to be on time for Marinette. That led me to wonder where I should take her; clearly, going to a park, as Chat, would not be high on the list…

High on the list? That inadvertently gave me an idea, but I didn’t have time to flesh it out, for the door to my trailer opened and the photographer himself poked his head in.

“Adrien, I’m so sorry…”

I turned, quizzical expression on my face. “What’s up, Andre?” I knew it had to be bad, for he generally spoke to me through one of his assistants. He was not one to associate with the “talent” no matter how famous it might have been.

“As hard as it is to believe, all of our storage cards for our digital photos are missing. We’ve sent someone to get more, but we’ve hit another issue with our internet connection. Our editing tool requires a persistent connection and, as unlikely as this sounds, the cell tower covering this part of the city has failed. It’ll take a few hours to fix. You don’t mind hanging out and waiting, do you?” he asked.

Normally I would. But today…

“Sure, no problem,” I smiled.

He looked a bit stunned. “Uh, thanks,” he said, clearly expecting some sort of tantrum from his model. I wondered what his life had to be like if he dealt with people like that all day, every day. I’d worked with people who fit the bill of “diva” and hoped to avoid them in the future myself. “We’ll get started as soon as we can.”

As he closed the door, I turned back to the mirror. A moment later, Plagg phased through the wall of the trailer looking both tired and euphoric. I tossed him several slices of cheese in rapid succession, all of which he demolished. “You’ve been busy,” I observed.

“Can I cook, or can’t I?” he asked cheerfully. “Ready to go?”

“We’ll be early.”

“I don’t think she’ll mind,” he said.

“Whatever you say,” I frowned, not entirely convinced.

“Trust me.”

“You just _had_ to say that, didn’t you?” I said as I scooted out of the chair. “Plagg – claws out!”


	9. Darned If You Do

Having transformed and escaped many times from my trailer, I quickly skulked over to the wide window facing away from the door the moment the green glow faded. Sliding up the venetian blinds with a claw, I made sure the coast was clear before leaping directly up and through the plastic skylight just above me. As I grew, I knew my days of easily slipping through the small square box would come to an end, but today I easily made it, landing in a flattened crouch atop the unit.

I continued to scan with all of my feline senses, but as best I could tell, everyone seemed focused on the crisis Plagg had created. Trying very hard not to smile, I rolled off the trailer and scampered on all fours across the park – away from the shoot and toward the Bakery. With most of the activity at the fountain, I took off toward the massive carousel at the far end, using it to shield my leap up and over the fence behind it. Dropping to the sidewalk in a crouch, I vaulted across the street and entered the alley next to the Bakery, then leapt upward, triggering my baton as I soared into the air. With it’s comforting mechanical chirping, I rode the baton all the way to the roof, hopping off on the railing when I reached it.

One more hop and I was on the tile; as I retracted the baton, I took in once more the amazing view from Marinette’s rooftop. Somewhat unusually, I’d come up the far side of the building for once, arriving just behind the taller brick wall that quasi-separated the space. It wasn’t my usual angle, and as I turned, the early morning sunlight struck Notre Dame off in the distance in such a way that the stained-glass windows came alive in a sparkle of colors.

Entranced, I moved to the forward edge of the patio as I slid my baton behind my back. I knew I was still a bit early, and couldn’t resist the allure of the panorama. In addition to Notre Dame coming to life, the sun was dancing off the ripples in the river below, accentuating the activity of the boats busily making their way up and down the waterway. I could even see the pedestrians walking along the riverbank; some solo, but most in pairs. My romantic heart picked out the ones holding hands, or leaning in for a quick kiss as they strolled.

There would have been a time that I’d close my eyes and visualize walking with Ladybug in that same manner, enjoying a quiet morning along the river, chatting companionably about everything and nothing while stealing the occasional kiss. Today, though, I saw Chat and Marinette in more than a few couples; it cemented in my soul the change that had taken place. It took me a moment to realize I was purring just thinking about it.

Leaping up to perch on the railing, a momentary flash caught my attention and I turned my focus slightly. The magnificent grand old carousel in the park I’d escaped was apparently going through it’s early morning rituals, getting ready for the weekend crowd; the metalwork and random mirrors were catching the light as it turned. I smiled wider. On more than one occasion, I’d caught sight of Marinette on that very carousel, ostensibly taking a ride with whatever urchin she was babysitting at the time. Her focus had been firmly placed on the photoshoot taking place, though, and me in particular as the horse she rode rotated into view. As the park was a favorite location for photographers, I was here frequently; so, to, had been Marinette. 

I’d always wondered how she’d known I was there; clearly, she had the best vantage point on the block, if not from the patio, from her bedroom just below. In fact, I could see the entire photo setup for that morning—

The skylight dropped with a clang behind me.

Somewhat surprised I’d not heard Marinette come through it, I turned my head toward her only to have my genuine smile falter. Standing slightly in front of the skylight, Marinette looked as though she were barely holding herself together. One hand was clenching, and the other had apparently been holding the wicker basket for our brunch; the basket itself was on its side, the contents spilled out across the tile. 

I admit to often being clueless as Chat, but this time around, my feline brain quickly processed the data it had been handed.

_You can see the entire park from here. My trailer is facing this position, as well as where the sedan drops me off; that’s how she knows when Adrien arrives for a photoshoot. The carousel only blocked me from the set, meaning I was exposed completely from this angle. And, of course, I didn’t check the rooftop before I landed, did I? Ladybug always tells me to look before I leap. Well, I really leapt into it this time, didn’t I? Did she see everything? Maybe not?_

_OhMyGodOhMyGod I think she did…_

Plagg hadn’t been wrong. Marinette _had_ been ready early. But neither of us had counted on her seeing the activity at the park, and, naturally, checking out the action – even if she wasn’t as enthusiastic about Adrien as she once had been. Old habits die hard, I supposed.

Looking at her face, I knew immediately what a mistake it had been not to clear up everything as Adrien. This was _not_ the answer I was hoping for to the question of how she would react to knowing my true identity. Not even close. 

Swallowing slightly, multiple ways to start this conversation flashed through my feline brain. Based on the wild expression in her eyes, dealing with the issue at hand head on was the only true option, as painful as this was going to be. I swallowed again and said, simply: “So. You saw everything.”

“Yes,” she said, fury nipping at her words, “everything.” 

For a moment, I thought perhaps she’d not seen _everything_ per se; something was working behind her eyes, though, and the longer she went without saying anything, the more I knew the gig was likely up.

After nearly an eternity, Marinette finally added with no small amount of acid: “ _Adrien_.”

Feeling a bit like someone had just punched me in the gut, I slipped off my perch and slid down against the railing, coming to rest with my back against the wrought iron, knees pulled to my chest. “Wow.”

“Not my first response,” she said, voice clipped. “Get. Off. My. Roof.”

I held out my paws defensively. “Look, I think we really need to talk about this. There are bigger issues now, eclipsing how I messed up at the Grevin.”

“Which part?” she asked. “The part where you used your alter-ego to fool me into thinking you loved me? The cruel twist that I managed to fall in love with you a second time? Or the fact that you’ve messed up big time and exposed your true identity to someone?”

I lowered my head, allowing my bangs to fall forward and partially hide the pain I knew would be visible in my eyes. This was the worst possible scenario, and I felt my world slowly starting to spin away from me, out of control. “It wasn’t an act,” I said softly. “It was _never_ an act. I do love you.”

“ _Liar_!” she yelled. “You love Ladybug! You always have.” 

I found myself looking up through my hair at her, shocked again by the force of her emotion. “That was true, once,” I said softly, my eyes searching hers. “And yes, Ladybug will always have a special place in my heart. But I’ve known for a while that my heart is actually owned by you.” I turned away from her and looked over my shoulder at the photoshoot, and the bête noire it had created. “Honestly? It took me being an incredibly insensitive jerk to my best friend for me to realize what love truly was.” 

I turned back to her. “And what it meant to love, and to _be_ loved,” I finished quietly. 

“Chat,” she said hotly, “get off my roof. Now.”

“Marinette---”

“ _Now!_ ”

“All right,” I said as I leapt back up to the railing in a smooth movement, tail flapping as I moved. “But I can’t go until you promise me, _promise_ me, you won’t tell a soul who Chat Noir is.” I hurried on before she could interrupt me, holding a paw out to stop her. “Not for me – but for your own safety. Ladybug has often warned me that Hawkmoth would come after friends and family, were our identities known; I couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt.”

“It’s a little late for you to be worrying about that now, isn’t it?” she asked.

“That is on me, and I will live with that for the rest of my life,” I said as I searched her eyes. “Whatever you may think of me, I _do_ love you. I know I should have come to you sooner, as Adrien, to apologize for the hurt I caused you. To be honest, I had no idea how to do it; but you were in so much pain, I had to do _something_. I’m sorrier than you could ever know for hurting you; all of this was, truly, my attempt to help.” I paused. “And I will do everything I can to both protect you and make sure you are happy.”

All I wanted to do in that moment was to draw her into an embrace and hold her until the pain I’d caused went away. Of all the people I had helped as Chat, the one person I needed to help the most was unreachable.

“If that means never seeing you again, I accept that,” I added, feeling my heart start to break into a million bits as I did. “But I promise I _will_ protect you, for as long as I can.”

“I doubt highly you’ll remain Chat Noir,” Marinette said. Was that a trace of triumph in her tone? “Much like Chloe, I suspect once Ladybug finds out what has happened, she’ll demand you return your Miraculous.”

I felt my ears stand straight up and my masked eyes widen with shock; it was unlike Marinette to intentionally try to hurt someone, underscoring, perhaps, just how much pain I’d caused. She had no way to understand how much _being_ Chat Noir meant to me, so unwittingly or not, she scored a direct hit with my shields down.

“You’re likely right,” I said after a few moments, once the shock of the possibility had sunk in. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t continue to protect you, however I can.” I turned toward the sky, now wondering if this was one of the last times I’d fly over the rooftops of Paris as Chat. 

“Nor will I stop loving you,” I said even quieter.

I leapt off the rooftop and helicoptered away; Marinette had said something as I launched myself into the sky, but the blood rushing through my feline ears drowned it out. Deep in my heart, I knew I’d crashed and burned fatally; everything – and everyone – I held dear was likely to be yanked away from me as a result. It was a sobering thought.

Numbly landing on the sidewalk, I vaulted over the fence behind the carousel and scampered back across to the park. Without caring about further exposure, I leapt up to the roof of my trailer and dropped through the skylight, landing in a crouch idly pleased not to have found yet another person unexpectedly waiting.

Still crouched, I pulled out the baton and triggered the phone, knowing I had to make one final call. Ladybug didn’t answer, of course, so I waited for the voicemail beep. “LB it’s me, obviously. My civilian identity is blown, and I’ve put someone I love in jeopardy as a result. I realize this means it’s probably the end of the line for me as Chat Noir. Let me know when and where you want to collect my Miraculous.”

Hanging up, I slid the baton back and closed my eyes, savoring for just a few moments simply being Chat Noir. “Plagg – claws in.”

The green transformation wave washed over me and Plagg appeared, his expression both concerned and upset. “I’m sorry, Adrien. That didn’t go nearly as well as I was expecting,” he said. “But you’re not seriously considering giving up the ring, are you kid?”

“I messed up,” I said. “Big time. I don’t deserve to be a hero.”

“You were _chosen_ ,” Plagg reminded me angrily.

“Maybe it was a mistake,” I said.

He flew right up to my face. “No,” he said, more firmly than anything he’d ever said before. “It wasn’t. It _isn’t_. And it’s not her decision.”

“At the end of the day, it’s not really up to me, is it?” I said morosely. “Whatever Ladybug decides, I’ll accept it. And somehow, I will still find a way to heal Marinette.”

Sliding back into the makeup chair, I stared at my fake face and hair, still ready for the photos later. Plagg floated next to my shoulder as he usually did, and the sight of it made me melancholy. As irascible a character as he was, he had become my first true friend, and possibly my closest. I knew I’d miss him at least as much as the freedom he’d provided me through Chat Noir from my cloistered life as Adrien.

I sat there for the next few hours, with Plagg patiently floating by my side, both of us waiting to be called to the set. He tried to talk me into transforming and escaping again, more I think to cheer me up than anything else, but unusually for me, I declined each time. He gave it one last shot, though. “You should at least check to see if Ladybug called you back,” he said, perfectly logically.

“Can’t you just tell me?”

“Not today,” he replied. “Now change.”

“Plagg – claws out,” I said, perhaps the most reluctantly I’d ever said it.

As the glow faded, I paused before reaching for the baton, unsure if I wanted to know her response. Slowly, I pulled it out and popped it open. There were no voice messages; Ladybug had to have been angrier than I’d anticipated, for instead there was a succinct text waiting.

 **_Bugaboo_ ** _: Tonight @ 2000. Trocadero._

 _Now_ it was real.

My vision swam as I clicked the baton closed and slid it back; my feline ears picked up the approach of someone and I hurriedly dropped my transformation. But the tears wouldn’t stop; when Cheryl re-entered, she stared in horror at the mess I’d become, makeup running down my face.

“Oh honey,” she said. “What have you done?” she asked, more concerned with her artistic work than anything else.

The more appropriate existential question had me bursting into full-on sobbing.


	10. Just When You Think You're Out...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Special Author’s Note: After that last chapter, Chat pretty much demanded that I publish the next one right away. I tried to object, but he was rather purrsuasive. Especially the way he held his potentially-Cataclysm-powered paw over my laptop. --ep_

Back at the mansion after the photoshoot, I listlessly went through the rest of my day, one eye on the clock and the impending meeting with Ladybug. By the time I’d returned to my room after dinner, Plagg had long since ceased trying to talk me out of turning over the ring; he hadn’t, however, stopped glaring at me, making his feelings on the matter known. Something inside of me had died, though, and I felt it didn’t matter any longer one way or the other. This part of my life was now over; come Sunday, I’d have to find some way to move forward.

About the only thing I listened to was Plagg’s suggestion that I leave early and enjoy the last hours of freedom I could. I hadn’t intended to take him up on the offer, but by seventeen-thirty, I was going nuts with the tension. I looked at my friend one last, long time.

“Thank you for everything,” I said, carefully holding him in and hugging him. “I _will_ miss you.”

“I know,” he said, uncharacteristically hugging me back, “and believe it or not, I’ll miss you too, kid.”

I smiled at that. “Plagg – claws out.”

The flash enveloped me and I stood in my bedroom for the last time as Chat. I was seized with a sudden desire to take a selfie, just to remind myself of what had once been, but sanity prevailed, and I instead leapt up to the window and then out into the night.

As I moved through the darkening skies, I relished the wind moving through my mane, and savored the next two hours, revisiting some of my favorite spots in Paris that were only accessible as Chat. Scribing a giant loop around the city, I wound up with thirty minutes to spare wedged into a corner of metalwork high atop the Eiffel Tower. One arm looped through a hole, legs pressed against the slanted support girder, I took in the glittering nightline of my city and fought back another wave of sorrow. The last thing I needed was to become akumatized on the night I relinquished my ring.

Aside from admitting I was terrible at relationships, I ruminated on how wildly bad the situation had become. I’d managed to hurt Marinette twice, and likely was about to hurt Ladybug by forcing her to get a new partner. _That_ brought a grim smile. I’d long been worried she’d replace me with the turtle; now she’d have the purrfect chance.

I swung around to look the opposite way one final time before leaving for Trocadero, and as I did so, my night vision picked up a small form working her way through the night toward me. The grim smile became a full-blown frown; was she _really_ angry enough that she’d deny me my last few minutes as Chat? Apparently so, for I watched as she came in hot, looping her yo-yo around the girder above me and landing about five meters away.

“Chat,” she said tonelessly, belying the fire in her blue eyes.

It didn’t seem appropriate to use any of my normal affectionate monikers for her; I likewise eschewed my normal bow-and-a-kiss. “Ladybug.”

She looked meaningfully over the edge. “You want to do it here, then?”

“No, Milady,” I said, quickly forgetting my earlier thought. “I just wanted---”

She cut me off, her tone slicing my heart to pieces. “As usual, it’s all about Chat, isn’t it?”

I sighed. There was no point in fighting; clearly, she was feeling just as betrayed as Marinette had a few hours earlier. I was emotionally bankrupt, and held out a paw in defeat. “You win, LB. I’m through.” I unhooked my arm and slid down to the crossbeam with a rubbery squeak, coming to stand facing Ladybug. Pulling out my baton, I started: “I’ll meet you down there—”

“ _What were you thinking?_ ” she yelled at me, taking a few steps toward my position.

My ears flattened. In all of our time together as partners, even with our various disagreements, she had never been incensed enough to raise her voice at me. Her face was even red. And… tears? Were those tears running down her mask? “Ladybug---”

“No!” she said, holding a finger out to silence me. “You don’t get to say anything. You’ve said plenty.” 

“But—"

Silencing me with a trademark Ladybug glare, she took a deep, gulping breath, and continued. “I’ve repeatedly told you how important it is to keep our identities secret. Even from each other. That you’d reveal yourself to a civilian is unacceptable and unforgiveable. Now you’ve placed someone you _claim_ to love into grave danger.”

I just stood there, ears drooping and tail dragging. What could I say? She was right on all counts.

“And of all people, I never expected you to be the one who would lie. Lie to people you purported to _love_ ,” she continued. “How can I ever trust you now?”

That stung. “Milady, I have never lied to you,” I said forcefully. 

“Oh?” she said. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” I said firmly, but it was the wrong thing to say and I knew it as soon as it was out of my mouth.

Almost as if _she_ were the cat in our relationship, Ladybug pounced. “I don’t suppose ’I found him in the library’ sounds familiar?”

My face flushed slightly, and I felt a bit like my head – no strike that, my _world_ was spinning. “Ladybug, you know full well I was trying to protect my identity. I couldn’t very well tell you where---”

I stopped cold. _Hang on,_ I thought. _How would Ladybug have known I was lying about Adrien?_

Ladybug had continued on, steamrolling over my false start of an explanation. As I stood there, not truly listening to her, I wondered how she had deduced my identity. I’d already braced myself for the reveal once I relinquished the ring, but as I stared down at my black-cladded arms, I realized she’d known who my alter-ego was long before she’d arrived on the Tower. That was the _only_ way she could catch me in my lie from Dupont; but had she talked to Marinette, then? That seemed unlikely, but it was the most reasonable explanation. I knew I’d been pretty sloppy over the past few days, but I didn’t think I’d done anything to reveal myself to Ladybug directly.

 _How did she know who I was?_ I kept asking myself.

Somewhat exasperated, and clearly worked into a full lather, Ladybug’s voice finally pulled me out of my revere as she said very, very coldly, “Chat Noir, you’ve left me no choice. I must ask that you return your Miraculous to—”

“No, no he won’t,” came a quiet voice from the shadows.

I turned, surprised, for there on the opposite corner of the superstructure stood the diminutive Master Fu. How the nearly two centuries old Guardian of the Miraculous had managed to get to our height unassisted – an undetected by my feline senses – was a mystery I chose not to delve into at that moment. “Master Fu?”

Carefully, he picked his way over to stand behind Ladybug. “As Ladybug, you have the right to select additional members of your team, but as the Guardian, the duty to choose the holders of the Cat or Bug Miraculous falls to me. Asking Chat Noir to relinquish his Miraculous is not your call.”

Ladybug was barely containing her anger. “Master Fu, I don’t think you have the full picture here---”

“Don’t confuse age with an inability to stay on top of current events,” Fu said, smiling slightly. “I am well aware of what Chat has done, just as I am equally aware of what you have done to him.”

My head snapped up and masked eyes narrowed. “Master Fu, I’m fully the one who’s to blame here.” I looked to Ladybug. “I’m the one who broke Marinette’s heart. I’m the one who misled her and hurt her a second time with my actions as Chat. This is on me entirely.”

Taking a deep breath, I started to slide the ring off my finger, my whole body shaking as I did so.

Master Fu, somehow, was suddenly beside me, his calming hand on my paw. “No, Chat.”

I looked up, my masked eyes wide. “I’m not a hero, Master Fu. I’m not _worthy_ to hold this ring. I’ve put---”

“No one into harm’s way who wasn’t already there,” Master Fu completed for me, turning to look meaningfully at Ladybug. “Isn’t that true, Ladybug?”

Ladybug’s eyes had gone wide, and her face pale. That gave me pause. “No,” Ladybug said in response to Master Fu. “It’s not.”

“I don’t understand,” I said, looking between Master Fu and Ladybug.

“Well,” Master Fu said, tilting his head slightly. “We have all done things, and said things, over the course of our lives that we wish we had not; the two of you are not exceptions to that rule. What makes this situation more complicated, of course, is the fact that you are Miraculous Holders. While a certain amount of… misdirection, shall we say, is necessary to protect the Miraculous jewels you hold, I fear that has contributed to this very situation we now find ourselves in. And, perhaps, even exacerbated it.” He paused. “Immensely.”

I stared at him, feeling like an understanding of what was _really_ going on was hovering just outside my perception. “This all started because I told Marinette I loved Ladybug,” I said slowly. “I didn’t truly perceive at that point how much she… well, how much she loved me.”

I turned and walked back to the crossbeam, tail swishing as I walked. “It was only when I went to her as Chat that I discovered what I had meant to her, as Adrien. But by then, I’d fallen in love with her, too.” I looked over my shoulder and found myself shrugging slightly. “Do I love her as Chat, or as Adrien? Both, I suppose. I can’t separate myself out into two halves anymore; it’s just the whole _me_.”

“And now she knows you are also Adrien,” Master Fu said quietly. 

“Yes.” I sighed. “And with that, knows I am the one responsible for hurting her. I don’t blame her for thinking I was just using Chat to get back into her good graces.” I looked up at the underside of the top level of the Tower, not really seeing it. “I wasn’t, of course. I truly wanted her to heal. To… to… truly be happy, once more.”

“Perhaps using Chat wasn’t the _best_ idea,” Master Fu replied, “but let’s not overlook the fact that you were making a considerable effort to repair the damage.” I heard him shift slightly. “Wouldn’t you agree with that, Ladybug?”

“No,” I heard her say, harshly.

“Come now, my child,” Fu chided. “Your hands are not as clean as you would have us believe.”

That made me turn around. “Ladybug hasn’t done anything,” I said quickly. “She’s been the perfect partner. The consummate friend.”

Fu smiled again. “Even now, you will spring to her defense,” he said approvingly. Fu turned back to Ladybug. “Despite all of the pain you have experienced yourself, Chat.”

As odd as his phrasing was, I arched a masked eyebrow and turned, quizzically, toward Ladybug. She had a strange expression on her face, not of anger, but of… guilt? “I’ll always defend Ladybug,” I said simply. “It’s built into the fabric of my being.”

“I know,” Master Fu said, that strange shadow of a smile playing at his face. He looked back at Ladybug. “I believe we are finished here,” he said with some finality. Then, much as Mademoiselle Bustier a day earlier, added, “I expect the two of you will work this out. Together. I’m a bit disappointed that it got to this point, and that I needed to intervene.” 

“I can’t work with him,” Ladybug said flatly. “You have to replace him. If you won’t, I’ll insist on working with Carapace or Rena from this point forward.”

“That’s not possible,” Master Fu said, gently but with the force of a command. “Chat is the only holder with a power that compliments your own. You will work with him.”

“I won’t. I _can’t_.”

“You can,” Master Fu replied calmly. “Follow your heart, Ladybug. I think it knows what needs to be done.” He paused a beat. “If you’ll allow me one piece of advice? Don’t wait as long as Chat did, my child. For you are likely to find yourself in a worse position, in even more pain, than where we are today.”

As mysteriously as he’d appeared, Master Fu went over the side of the tower and vanished into the night, leaving Ladybug and I in opposite corners, staring at each other. I had a mental image of two trapped animals, caged, ready to fight; I mused it wasn’t far from truth, given how tensed for action both of us were.

Not, perhaps, the best way to begin again.

The silence stretched out between us uncomfortably; Ladybug’s anger came off of her in palpable waves, and I found myself, for once, at a loss for words. And yet, my whirling thoughts kept coming back to one thing. Maybe because I needed to say _something_ , I ultimately wound up blurting it out: “How did you find out I was Adrien?”

Ladybug looked at me. Glared, really. “I’m not doing this tonight,” she said flatly. 

“Did Marinette tell you?” I pressed.

Spinning up her yo-yo, Ladybug paused at the edge of the girder. “Stay away from her,” she warned. “You’ve done enough damage as it is.”

“That could be hard,” I said, “for we’ve been assigned—”

“Find a way to partner with someone else,” Ladybug clipped.

“No,” I said suddenly, unsure of why I was standing my ground. “I won’t throw that turmoil at her. Not now. I can handle this without making matters worse.”

Ladybug looked at me for a long, hard moment. “That remains to be seen,” she said. And then she, too, was gone.

I watched as she hurled herself away from me, and wondered just how much I had lost.


	11. ...They Pull You Back In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Special Author’s Note: Even I can’t stand this, so we’ll begin posting daily for the final trio of chapters. I am humbled by some of the amazing discussion going on as a result of this story. The pressure’s on, now, for a satisfactory ending… ---ep_

I had no right to be ecstatic, but the reprieve I’d apparently been granted had buoyed my sprits enormously. It wasn’t quite enough to offset the pain of Ladybug’s vehement rejection of me as a partner, but as the eternal optimist, I felt like I have been given a chance to restore her faith in me. And since I needed to do the same with Marinette, I truly had my work cut out for me.

As I landed on my windowsill at the mansion, though, I kept coming back to the one item that was now plaguing me. Ladybug _knew_ who I was. And clearly she was uncomfortable revealing how she had come into that knowledge. That meant that two people I cared about were now well acquainted with both of my personas; I wasn’t sure yet if this meant it would be easier or harder to move forward with either of them. I suspected strongly it would be the latter.

Ladybug’s admonition to stay away from Marinette further bothered me; she had to have known that telling me _not_ to do something was like waving fresh tuna in front of me (though to be honest, technically I preferred salmon). As I sat there, perched on the windowsill, it occurred to me that maybe there was more behind it.

It was obvious why she would want me to stay away, of course. Tail twisting over the edge, I knew she could simply be trying to protect someone from further harm – totally within the brief of our duties as superheroes. And yet, there was still that _something_ floating out beyond my ability to grasp – a piece of the puzzle that I was missing. My feelings were so muddled up at the moment, it was possible even that my own personal hurt was blinding me to whatever it was.

That made me think of something Master Fu had said. Not to me, but to Ladybug; what was it, exactly? 

_Don’t wait as long as Chat did._

The figurative lightning bolt shocked me so badly, it literally knocked me off the windowsill; I tumbled backwards, managing to recover in the nick of time before becoming a flattened Chat in the garden below my window. Springing up on my baton, I vaulted into the night, helicoptering to the nearest roof before landing and running as fast as my feline abilities would allow.

Suddenly, all of it made sense. 

My own form of righteous anger propelled me forward, rooftop to rooftop; I blinked away my angry tears and pressed on even faster, ambivalent even to the possibility that I might attract Hawkmoth’s attention. Fury overrode sensibility, and I landed with a vengeance on the Bakery chimney that had once been a welcoming beacon to me.

I sat there, cat like, well aware that I had not softened my landing in deference to the late hour; there was no way Marinette hadn’t heard me arrive, and as I cocked my feline ear, that grim smile returned as I heard her react below me. Deliberately, I dragged my claws along the metal of the chimney, creating an amazingly awful screeching that would have woken the dead two countries over. Lights popped on in the bedroom below me, and a moment later, the skylight flew open.

She whirled as she came out, piercing me with a distasteful glare. “I thought I told you to stay away,” she said angrily.

My grim smile thinned a bit, for I knew she’d not realized her mistake. “ _You_ didn’t, Princess,” I said, my own anger tightening my voice and twisting my tail. “I believe _you_ kicked me off your roof. As you can clearly see,” I explained, waving a paw at my current position atop the chimney, “I am carefully abiding by your wishes.” I paused. “On the other hand, _Ladybug_ did tell me to stay away from you,” I finished, careful with my emphasis.

“Then why are you _here_?” she asked in clipped tones. She was still glaring at me, though I thought I saw a flash of something close to recognition in her expression.

“Cats are naturally curious,” I said, my masked green eyes firmly meeting hers. “And we hate mysteries. Would you like to know about one that is really, really bothering me?”

“Not particularly,” Marinette said.

“Unfurrtunately for you, I’m going to tell you anyway,” I said, knowing my eyes had narrowed, much the way I looked at akumas that had tried to hurt Ladybug. “You were rather up front with how your anger was based in my having lied to you. I can accept that you feel that way, given how my alter-ego was revealed in the ugliest of manners this morning. Whether my intentions were noble or not, I betrayed your trust.”

Marinette glared at me, but despite her cool outward appearance, I could hear her heartbeat had picked up a bit. My own heart sunk realizing I was on the right track.

“What I am trying to fathom, though, is why you can be so very angry with me for an honest mistake that led to a lie, when you, in fact, have been lying to _me_ since the beginning.”

She continued to glare at me, but I could see some color on her cheeks. “You’re talking nonsense, Chat.”

“Am I?” I asked, my voice cold. “I’ve been upfront with you from day one about my feelings, _Milady_ ,” I said with emphasis. “I was being honest in the sedan when I said I was in love with you. I just didn’t realize you were there at the time.”

The color had drained out of her face. “Chat—”

“Ironic, isn’t it? My honesty led to this mess. I was blind not to see Ladybug had been with me every day, sitting right behind me. But how could I? You insisted on us keeping our identities hidden; so there we were, each pining away for the other without knowing how close we actually were to each other.”

I waited a beat. “That resulted in us – _both_ of us – having to do things to keep our hero personas a secret. We’ve baked it into the gig. So, while ‘Adrien’ is Chat, not every part of Chat can be ‘Adrien.’ And of all people, you must understand now _why_ I lied to you at Dupont. I didn’t have a choice! Had I been honest, you’d have been as equally as upset as you are tonight.”

Marinette looked a bit deflated, but I continued on.

“What bothers me is your… shall we say, hypocritical attitude on lying. It’s not all right for me, but if it’s _Ladybug_ ,” I said, waving a paw in the air for emphasis, “the sky’s the limit.” 

I knew my masked eyes were flashing. “Yours is not the only heart in pieces, Milady. You’ve managed to shred mine more times than I’d care to count.”

“I didn’t know you were Adrien!” she said hotly. “How could I? And telling you _who_ I was in love with would have revealed more about me than I was prepared to share.”

“With your _partner_ ,” I said. “The one who has your back. Always.”

Marinette started to say something, and then caught herself. 

“Trust is a two-way street, Milady,” I said with a quiet fierceness. “I’ve never, _ever_ lied to you about how I felt. Coming to you, as Chat, was wrong – and I accept that!” I paused to look back out across the Seine, the grim smile returning briefly. “But it’s also true, what I said to Master Fu earlier. The line is gone now between ‘Adrien’ and ‘Chat.’” 

I looked back down at Marinette. “Going through this made me realize the mask just allowed me to find myself, if that makes any sense. I am _me_ , with or without the mask. That’s something, I guess.”

I waited a long, long moment before adding. “This is who I am; I would have never intentionally tried to hurt you. And I am sorry that I did.”

“It that what you came here to say?” Marinette asked, traces of her ire still present.

“Mostly,” I said. The anger I’d had upon arrival had softened out; I wasn’t entirely sure what I was feeling. Sadness, maybe? At a missed opportunity? 

“I was rather furious when I connected the dots and made a beeline for you,” I said honestly, my eyes detaching from hers and drifting to the night sky. I scratched my neck with a paw as I continued. “I told you once before, I’d give up everything just to have the chance to be by your side.”

I took a deep breath, and then bared my soul.

“And after everything… it’s still true. I… I still love you,” I said, almost so softly that I couldn’t hear it myself.

My masked green eyes flicked back to hers. “I’m not sure where we go from here, Mari. And given how you feel, I’ll understand if you would rather not see me more than is strictly necessary for our roles as Miraculous holders. I won’t visit again uninvited; as for the class project, I’m happy to meet in neutral territory, though with my grounding,” I added with a wry grin, “you might have to come to me.”

She remained silent, but after a moment, nodded. 

“Goodnight, Milady,” I said, managing something of a smile. I knew it was tinged with sadness; for the first time, it was hitting me just how much I had lost in this debacle. Perfunctorily I leapt off the chimney and away from my partner, and made my way through the night – a night that now seemed far emptier and devoid of warmth that it had ever before.

I knew I was going far slower than normal, my emotional energy having been completely drained. I also wasn’t entirely excited about returning to my prison. Somewhere close to two in the morning, I completed my second lap around Paris and finally felt tired enough that my bed seemed like a great option. Landing on a roof close to the mansion, I could see my lights were still on in the bedroom – another clear indicator that, once I was presumed to have retired to my room, no one in the mansion typically cared to check on me.

Nothing in front of me, and perhaps, nothing behind me; the early morning was rife with irony. 

Vaulting over the fence, I landed in my open window much as I had hours earlier, and paused, ears flicking slightly to clear the space. It was as empty as it seemed, and I rolled through the window, landing in the center of the space in my crouch. Just because, I snapped my baton into catarangs, and hurled the two pieces at the light switches on opposite sides of the space, holding my paws out to await their return once the room was plunged into darkness.

Snapping my baton back together, I remained in the center of the room, defensively curling up into a tiny cat ball facing the still-open window and the dark skies beyond. Sunday was the universal day off for the household staff; even the omnipresent Nathalie would be absent, unless Father suddenly called her in. I knew I had nothing on the calendar myself; I was generally on my own for meals save for the exceedingly rare possibility of having dinner with Father at the appointed hour. With Nathalie absent, I had little fear of being discovered, giving me license to get far more comfortable as Chat. 

It was, perhaps, the single happy thought to come out of a trying day; I held onto it, closed my feline eyes and drifted off to sleep.

The early morning rays of sunshine touching my feline ears woke me some hours later, and I cracked an accusatory masked eye at the interruption as I stretched out luxuriously. It was an amazing feeling, one that I could only get while transformed; sure, I was pretty limber as Adrien – maybe more so, since I was also Chat – but there was truly nothing like a full-on cat stretch to get all of the kinks out. As I yawned, though, my baton buzzed. Pulling it from my back with one paw and idly scratching behind a feline ear with the other, I snapped it open to find a text message waiting,

**_Marinette_ ** _: Join me for brunch?_

My feline eyes popped open and I found myself instantly wide awake. I checked the number just to be sure she’d sent it from her civilian phone, then tapped out a reply.

**_Chat_ ** _: Are you sure?_

The three dots appeared, and I felt myself holding my breath. 

**_Marinette_ ** _: Yes._

Then, almost immediately, the three dots popped up again as she added to her message.

**_Marinette:_ ** _Please… come if you can, kitty._

I paused, my claws hovering over the keypad on my baton. Even as I was still feeling the aftereffects of my last visit with her, I couldn’t deny the slight uplift in my mood just thinking about possibly spending time with Marinette. Did I want to go, though? Everything felt so raw, still.

In the end, my heart typed out the response before my brain got to my claws.

**_Chat_ ** _: Ok. I’ll be there in a few._

Wondering if I was completely nuts, or simply glutton for punishment, I slid the baton closed and leapt to the window and what waited beyond.


	12. Breaking Bread

I landed on the same chimney as before, softly, and remained perched there. Marinette was on the rooftop patio and turned at the rubbery thump of my arrival. “Milady,” I said formally.

“Until we figure this out,” she said, “let’s stick to Marinette. Or,” a whisper of a smile appeared, “Princess. If you feel up to it.”

I arched a masked eyebrow. “Last night, you looked as though you were shooting daggers at me. Not exactly Princess material, Mari.”

“I _was_ thinking dark thoughts,” she nodded. “They kept me up the rest of the night.”

“Been there, done that,” I replied. After a moment of thought, I inclined my mane toward the railing below and asked: “May I… join you, Princess?”

“Yes, please,” she said.

I carefully leapt to the railing and perched, not quite willing to commit to anything further. Trying to keep the mood light, I smiled a model smile and said, “I promise not to akumatize your father this time.”

It broke the ice, and Marinette laughed. “Don’t worry; it took me an hour just to convince them they hadn’t heard your claws-on-metal routine last night. They insisted on searching the Bakery top to bottom for a cat burglar.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be. It gave me time to think. And, as a consequence, my parents are sleeping in this morning, and then will be having an intimate, but late, brunch over at the Grand Hotel. We’re effectively on our own for a few hours.”

My heart leapt slightly to think this might not be a short visit, but tamped it back down.

Marinette continued to smile, but was looking at me with her head slightly cocked and an odd expression. “Chat… did you… did you sleep transformed?” she asked. I thought could hear a trace of amazement in her voice, and it dawned on me that Ladybug might not necessarily approve such an activity. “Your hair is like, crazy messed up. Even by Chat standards.”

Flushing slightly, I answered. “Yeah.” I ran a paw through my mane a bit self-consciously; in my hurry to get to the Bakery, I’d eschewed my normal grooming standards. “I don’t do it often, but after how close I came to never being Chat Noir again…” I trailed off, unsure of how to explain to her _exactly_ what Chat meant to me. Or how much losing that part of me forever would have hurt – even more, perhaps, given that Ladybug herself had been demanding it of me. 

With a recently gained clarity, I knew I’d have willing done so if it had helped to heal her.

Seeing my expression, Marinette seemed to catch some of my thoughts and her face softened further. “Come down from there, kitty,” she said. “I promise not to make any sudden moves.”

“All right,” I said, and cautiously unfolded myself from the railing. I tried to keep my ears looking normal, but I knew they were reflecting my concern that this morning could turn south at any moment.

Marinette beckoned me to the checked cloth she’d put down, upon which the cornucopia of goodies I had already smelled had been arrayed. She must have seen my masked eyes widen at the extent of the spread, for she laughed slightly and said: “Now that I understand _why_ you are hungry all the time, I thought I’d make sure you had enough calories to get through the week.”

My eyes widened further. “Father has me on a pretty strict diet,” I nodded. “And I can’t exactly tell him, ‘hey, Father, I’m Chat Noir and I burn three times the number of calories of an average teenage boy,’” I added, waving my paws for emphasis.

“Living in a bakery has been a godsend,” Marinette said as we sat down opposite each other. “It’s expected that I eat all the time. Fortunately, they’ve not noticed how much _more_ I’m eating.”

Still wary, I waited until Marinette took a bagel before snatching a croissant. “So,” I said munching, “you’ve clearly come to a decision.”

“Yeah,” she said as she buttered her bagel. “Coffee?” she offered as she picked up a carafe.

Recognizing the delaying tactic, I smiled. “Yes, please.”

“Cream?”

I looked aghast. “Me? Drinking anything _but_ black coffee?”

Marinette snorted. “Of course,” she laughed, and this time, it was an easy, Marienette-esque emotion. “You do take this seriously, don’t you?”

I reached a paw to her arm, pausing her movement. “I’ve always taken it seriously,” I said, looking directly into her deep blue eyes. “Most especially my love for you.”

She looked at me for a moment, then looked away as she put the carafe back. “You weren’t wrong,” she said softly.

“About what?”

“It was hypocritical of me to be angry.”

I munched slower, and remained silent. I intrinsically knew she needed to be the one to talk, and simply tilted my mane slightly to lean a feline ear toward her, as if to say, _go ahead._

She sighed as she sipped her coffee. “Where do I start?” she said, quietly. “I admit, I was furious; first, of course, over what you said in the sedan.” 

Marinette looked at me directly, and I saw the pain in those blue eyes once more. “You – well, Chat, I suppose – he’s really you, anyway, right?” She shook her head. “Secret identities make this very confusing, don’t they? At any rate, Chat helped me through that. I’d gotten over it.” 

I nodded encouragingly and took a sip of my own coffee.

Holding her mug to her lips, she paused, and got a faraway look in her eyes. “I was just getting up when I caught the flash of your sedan pulling in at the park through my far window.” She looked at me, and smiled a bit sheepishly. “I have your schedule on my wall, actually – _Adrien’s_ schedule,” she corrected at my raised eyebrows. “And that particular event wasn’t on it.”

I arched a masked eyebrow higher. “I had no idea you were tracking me that closely,” I said.

Flushing slightly, she continued on. “Yeah, when you say it like that, uh…”

Both of my masked eyebrows shot up. “First you steal my phone…”

“How did you find out about _that_?” she asked, flushing even deeper.

“My kwami,” I shrugged. “I can’t get anything past him myself.”

“Ah,” she choked, going a shade of crimson I’d never seen before continuing. “Well, uh, I was curious, and as much as I thought I was over you – Adrien, that is – I still wanted to see what was up.”

“Not much for an hour,” I supplied. “There is much more downtime during a photoshoot than people think.” I smiled a bit. “If I don’t have homework to do – generally I don’t given how much enforced empty time I have at the mansion – I generally escape as Chat if I can.”

Marinette nodded. “For some reason, I kept checking. I had the unfortunate timing to be on the patio when you – Chat, that is – burst through the skylight of the trailer I’d seen Adrien go into an hour earlier.” 

She smiled a bit. “Despite how many times I’d tried to be close by when you were in the park, that was the first time I’d seen Chat at an Adrien photoshoot.” She smiled wider. “Even on those occasions when we _both_ were called to action, I never caught you transforming.”

“Normally, I’m pretty careful; I was sloppy on Saturday.” I waited a bit. “And it was too much of a coincidence given everything else, I’m sure.”

“Yes,” she said simply. “I tried to tell myself it _was_ just that – a coincidence.” Marinette stifled a bit of a chuckle. “I was in such denial that I’d nearly convinced myself Chat had simply dropped in to see Adrien before coming across to the Bakery.”

Swirling her mug, she continued. “When I returned to with the food, though, and saw you at the rail, everything clicked. The voice. The hair. The way you hold your body with the grace of a dancer.” She looked away again, her face flushing deeply. “For the second time in a week, I was furious. Anger hit me in waves, almost physically. And I said things… things I’m not proud of. And to my everlasting horror, I very nearly channeled that anger and frustration into the one thing I knew would hurt you as badly as you had hurt me.”

“Not your finest hour,” I said softly. “And I won’t lie. You were… quite successful.”

“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. I could see she was clearly uncomfortable with what she’d done; her eyes were glistening slightly as she quickly looked to dust off a phantom crumb from her shirt.

“I’m glad that Master Fu appeared when he did.” She looked up and at me intensely. “I had no right to be upset with you for loving someone else; if I’d been listening, truly listening, I probably would have realized _who_ you’d been referring to all along.” 

Marinette looked back at me tried a small smile. “Chat was never subtle in his praise of Ladybug; I just never realized just how deep your feelings were. Now I can see ‘Adrien’ felt the same way and said as much, even when not specifically mentioning me – Ladybug, that is – by name.”

I nodded. “I didn’t see the signs, either, Milady,” I replied, feeling comfortable enough to slip in my moniker for her. “You were right there the whole time.” I chanced a laugh. “I even called you our ‘everyday Ladybug’ if I’m not mistaken.”

“You were right there in front of me, too, Chat,” she said. “You’d often told me that Chat was more you than your alter-ego; I’d always laughed it off as part of your superhero persona. Looking back on what you were trying to do for me – as Chat – puts truth to all of it. You _are_ the considerate, consummate gentlemen who will do what is right no matter the cost.” She paused again. “My anger hid that from me.”

She took a sip of her coffee. “You said last night you didn’t know where we go from here. I’ll be honest, despite giving it a ton of thought last night, I’m not entirely sure myself. I said things—”

“We both did,” I interjected quietly. 

“Well, true, but if I’m being honest, my anger spoke long before reason intervened.” Marinette paused. “I… I overreacted. Badly. You were only trying to do the right thing; you were saying as much in the sedan when I slammed the door on you.”

Those big blue eyes looked at me. “As much as you were trying to repair our relationship from your side, I need to do the same from mine. If anything,” she said, looking away for a moment, “I have a real appreciation now for the power of emotions, and how Hawkmoth can use it against us.”

Turning back to me, she smiled, looking a bit chagrined. “And how can I stay mad at you for being in love with someone else – especially when that someone turned out to be _me_ all along?”

“Master Fu was right last night,” I reminded her. “We’re in an odd state of affairs. Being Miraculous holders puts an extra burden on personal relationships – and it didn’t help matters that we each fell for the other’s alter ego.”

“What are the odds?” she laughed.

I smiled. “I asked my kwamit about that,” I said. “While not entirely helpful, he did say that half the time, the Cat and Bug holders wind up together.”

“Indeed.” She looked at me for a long moment. “And the other half?”

“He didn’t go into that other than to comment ‘things were bad.’”

“I think I can accept that,” Marinette laughed. 

I looked at her, trying to keep hope from showing too openly in my masked eyes. “You know how I feel about you, bug. That won’t change. Can you… could you… live with that?”

For a long moment, Marinette just looked at me from across the cloth, and my heart faltered. I thought maybe I’d pushed too hard once more, and I started to apologize. I didn’t get the chance, however; in that spit second, Marinette voided her promise and, channeling a tiny bit of Ladybug perhaps, launched herself at me. My superior feline reflexes allowed me to snatch her out of the air and curl into a tumble together, rolling out with my back against the railing and my partner pressed to my lips.

The kiss – the first one I’d had with her that I remembered, at any rate – sizzled across my senses. As tentative as she’d started, in a heartbeat, I found myself completely drawn into the moment, returning passion with passion. Somehow, she managed to snake a hand loose from where it had landed on my back and reached up to a feline ear, gently running a finger along an edge before resting her hand on the back of my mane. It was an amazingly electric sensation – one I’d never felt before – and, unbidden, a deep rumble of a purr burst up from my chest.

That seemed to seal something for Marinette, for she pulled away from our kiss and then carefully snuggled her head just below my chin. “There’s my answer, Chat,” she said softly, gently pulling herself closer with the one hand still wrapped around my torso. “I’m sorry for all of it. The real question, I suppose, is whether you can accept _me_ , just as I am. Warts and all.”

I turned down toward her. “Are you kidding? Of course I do – of course I _will_. Always.”

Marinette snuggled into me further, though I thought that nearly impossible. “I realize that now, kitty,” she said warmly. “Much like you, I couldn’t see what was right in front of me the whole time. And now I am not going to let go of that. Ever.”

“I can live with that,” I said, burying my face in her hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there is actually one more chapter. Come back tomorrow... --ep


	13. Entangled

I stared at the wax figure of Chat Noir in the Heroes and Villains Room at the Grevin. 

It was exactly as it had been when unveiled some twenty years earlier; while I knew I had more grey than blonde in the mane now, for the most part I looked pretty much as I did back then – though definitely taller, and filled out with the muscles the younger version of me had only hinted at. I smiled at that; the kids had insisted on watching _The Incredibles_ and its amazing sequel last night, and I had to admit I was privately thankful that my continuing exploits as half of the Heroes of Paris prevented me from letting myself go the way Bob Parr had. For the Chat Noir costume _still_ left nothing to the imagination.

Shifting my gaze slightly, I took in the beautiful vision that was Ladybug. My eyes were, of course, biased, but I thought she looked as lovely today as she did back then. More so, perhaps, as she had grown into the mantle of being the leader of our team. And leader she was; I knew she liked to think of us as partners, and we were, but in truth, she called the shots. Two decades into our lives as superheroes, I was still more than happy to follow her wherever she led.

I sighed and shifted the backpack carrying the snacks our eight-year-old insisted on, no matter the outing. Our two teenagers had long since stopped officially demanding food be provided at all hours, but I still secretly continued to keep their snacks on hand to hand out on the sly. It was one more item in a long list of things I did for my own kids that my father had never done for me; a family outing such as this one would never have happened when I was their age, for I’d have been too busy modelling or trundling off to whatever extracurricular he’d felt I needed to be exposed to.

About the only legacy he’d handed down to me that I’d accepted was running House of Gabriel, although I made a conscious effort to ensure my duties as the face of the organization never interfered with my ability to be a significant part of my kids’ lives. It also gave me the freedom to ensure my wife could pursue her own dreams as well, which made me incredibly happy.

And, somehow, I’d still managed to find time to prowl Paris and keep it safe each night. 

To be sure, we’d beaten the original Hawkmoth years ago; and as hard as it was to deal with _who_ Hawkmoth had been, we’d found that nature truly abhors a vacuum and had consequently dealt with (and dispatched) three of his replacements in the years since. The current supervillain appeared to have learned all of the lessons of the first four, and was proving to be more troublesome – and far more difficult to defeat – than any of them.

But today had been a quiet day, and one we’d promised the kids for some months. I was glad we’d managed to get out and do a family event without being interrupted with an emergency.

I sighed again, looking at my partner; then I smiled as I first heard and then smelled her enter the room. The older I got, and the longer I was Chat Noir, my feline enhanced senses had become much more pronounced when not transformed. I was finding the night vision especially helpful for avoiding LEGOs that the eight-year-old had not returned to their storage bins. “Milady,” I said as I felt her hand slide into mine.

“Kitty,” Marinette said as she snuggled into my side. “My God, were we really that young?”

“I don’t know about you, but I still _feline_ that young,” I quipped.

“There are days, I guess,” Marinette rolled her eyes as she leaned her head into my shoulder. “Sadly, the kids have had their fill of historic figures and are waiting at the entrance. However,” she said, and a playful smile appeared, “I feel duty bound to report that Juliette says younger you looks fake.” *

“Juliette would be right,” I replied, leaning down to kiss my partner of two decades and wife for fifteen. “You remember that akuma we fought here? At the Grevin?”

Marinette looked into my green eyes. “How could I not,” she said. “It’s been top of mind since we arrived.” She looked away. “And what happened afterward.”

I drew her into a hug. “It was a mess, for sure. But like everything else, we got through it. Together.”

“I know, kitty,” she said. “Still—”

I put a finger to her lips. “No regrets, Milady. I won’t hear of it.”

Marinette laughed. “As you wish,” she said.

“Isn’t that _my_ line?” I asked, eyes narrowing with humor.

“We’ve been together a long time, now, kitty,” she said affectionately. “Some of your best lines are rubbing off on me.”

“And my worst ones?”

“The kids use them on social media.”

“Lovely,” I rolled my eyes. “All right, let’s get back home.”

“Look,” Marinette said suddenly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m going to drop the kids off with Aunt Alya for the evening,” she said as she deftly slid the backpack from me. “Meet me on our rooftop in an hour,” she whispered into my ear, “and bring Italian.”

I blinked. “Did I miss our anniversary?” I asked, knowing full well I hadn’t. “And what about that meeting you have tonight? The one going through the spring designs?”

“You didn’t forget, kitty,” the Head Designer for House of Gabriel smiled as she ran a finger along the side of my face, about where the mask edge usually sat. Mask or not, the thrill of her touch was electric. “And the meeting was a placeholder on my calendar. Let’s just say I decided we needed a night out.” She leaned in for another kiss, before pulling back to whisper, “Just the two of us.”

“You won’t get an argument from me,” I smiled as I leaned down to kiss her one last time.

“Off with you,” she laughed. “And don’t eat all of the cannoli before I get there.”

“No promises, Milady,” I said with mock seriousness as she turned and quickly made her way toward the exit and our waiting brood.

Suddenly needing to pick up dinner for two, I started toward an unremarked door I knew led to the storage areas of the museum. Having been cast more than once for exhibits over the years, I was rather familiar with the floorplan, and quickly eased my way into a darkened corridor. As the door sighed shut behind me, Plagg floated out of my shirt. Even after all our years together, he still preferred hiding out there than anywhere else. 

“I thought she’d never get around to telling you,” he said, his small face scowling, 

I arched an eyebrow at my kwami as I dug out my phone to place a to-go order at my favorite bistro. “And how long have _you_ known?”

“Tikki told me this morning while you were… otherwise occupied with Marinette.”

Surprisingly, he could still make me flush slightly at my age. “Ah,” I coughed as I confirmed the order and then carefully slid the phone back into my jeans. “Ready, my little friend?”

“Cheese,” he demanded.

I rolled my eyes. Some things never changed, like having to keep a supply of super-smelly camembert on me at all times. I fished out a piece, which I tossed to him. Per usual, he snatched it out of mid-air and downed it in a single gulp. “ _Now_ can we go?”

After demanding a second piece of cheese, he deigned to transform me; once the green glow faded, I slipped into the stairwell I was close to and vaulted upwards on my baton, popping out on the roof. I took my bearings and then vaulted toward Philippe’s Italian Bistro, tail flapping behind me as I soared through the late afternoon. I’d never gotten tired of seeing Paris from that angle and appreciated the sights one more time before landing in the alleyway beside the kitchen’s door a short while later.

None other than Chef Philippe himself answered when I rapped my claws against the service door, his wide smile splitting his cheery face. “Chat! I thought that was your order. Only the Hero of Paris orders a dozen cannoli to go as part of our Lasagna For Two package.”

I laughed. “Guilty as charged,” I said as I accepted the takeaway bags. The smells of freshly made, high quality food wafted past my feline nose and I closed my eyes appreciatively. 

“Only you can truly tell me how good my food is,” I heard Philippe say as he laughed his deep, infectious laugh. I opened my eyes. “The way you look when you smell your order gives me _such_ satisfaction.”

“It’s why I keep coming back, Chef,” I chuckled. 

“And who is the lucky woman tonight?” he asked, eyes bright.

I rolled my masked eyes. Even though our alter-egos were married, we’d managed to keep Paris speculating on Ladybug and Chat Noir; to be sure, we’d dropped a few hints here and there, more so over the last few years, but it was the one area that Ladybug remained adamant needed to remain opaque to the public. “Hope springs eternal,” I said cryptically with a half shrug to try and sell the idea.

“After twenty years,” Philippe clapped his hands excitedly. “Maybe she’ll _finally_ say yes!” he cried. “Tonight! Over _my_ lasagna!”

I tried hard not to give anything away, but in point in fact, Marinette had accepted my proposal over Philippe’s fantastic pasta. “I’ll let you know,” I laughed as I pushed my way up into the night on my baton.

By the time Ladybug arrived on my favorite rooftop looking across to Notre Dame, I’d completely decked it out with my usual romantic bric-a-brac of lit candles, rose petals and pillows; the food had been plated on a checked tablecloth, and I was just using a claw to uncork the bottle of red I knew she loved. She dropped softly to the tile and in two steps was in my arms, kissing me.

Then she pulled away suddenly. “No, this isn’t quite right,” she said.

Fearing I’d done something wrong – it _had_ happened over the years – I started to pre-emptively apologize. “Milady—”

“Tikki – spots off.”

I blinked, and the red glow faded away to reveal Marinette, smiling. “This is closer to what I was thinking,” she said, leaning back into me for a kiss as Tikki quietly floated into her purse.

Now thinking she’d intended for dinner to be between Adrien and Marinette, and not Chat and Ladybug (not that there was a difference, mind you), I started to call out myself as she pulled away from our kiss: “Plagg –”

“No,” Marinette said simply, pressing a finger to my lips. 

Still confused, I raised my masked eyebrows at her. “Mehlwaydy?” I asked around the finger.

“This was how I fell in love with you, for real,” she smiled. “You always told me Chat was more you than Adrien; that was true back then, of course.” Marinette looked at me mischievously as she ran a finger through some of the silvery locks of my wild mane. “And, I have to admit, you still look pretty sexy in black. If you don’t mind humoring your wife for bit.”

“You know I’d do anything for you, bug,” I said, burying my face in her hair. “I’m happy to stay transformed.”

“I was pretty sure you’d say that.” She laughed, and pulled away from me to dig something out of her purse. “Here,” she said, placing a small item into a paw.

I turned the item over – it was a small ball of Marinette-pink yarn. I looked back at my wife, arching a masked eyebrow questioningly.

“Two decades ago, you told me you wanted to be my friend. Nothing more,” she said. I could see her eyes glistening with the memory.

“I did,” I said. “No strings,” I added, masked eyes looking back at the yarn.

“No strings,” she repeated. “Which, of course, was another lie.” She paused. “For from that moment forward, kitty, you managed to tug on _every_ string in my heart. And still do, today.”

I looked at Marinette, my masked green eyes meeting her vibrant blue just as they had nearly every day for the last twenty years. I’d loved her from the very beginning, and even today, my heart sang out in joy at the special way she looked at me.

“No, Princess,” I said as I drew her into an affectionate hug. “It’s my heart that was captured by you.”

Burying my face in her hair once more, I saw the slight strands of silver that had started to appear, reminding me that time did pass for everyone – even the superheroes of Paris. To be honest, I was a little surprised that Master Fu had allowed us to keep our roles as protectors of the city we loved; magical crime-fighting did seem to be the province of the young. A nagging voice in the back of my head warned me that when I hit the next milestone birthday, the wizened Guardian may well appear on my doorstep. 

If it did happen – and I would always remain in denial about giving up Chat – I knew nothing would really change between us. For the partnership I had with Marinette went well beyond our superhero personas; I was reasonably certain this one aspect of us was why Master Fu had chosen us originally, and had yet to come calling. We protected Paris in a way other holders before us hadn’t been able to.

I looked at the yarn in my paw again, remembering all of the pain and anxiety we’d gone through in the aftermath of the Grevin akuma. With time and distance, it felt more like a tragic comedy now; still, I was old enough (and maybe wise enough) to allow for some level of introspection. There were so many ways I could have handled the situation better; I knew Marinette felt the same way. And yet, in the end, it had the net effect of the two of us growing far closer. 

No strings indeed; in my mind’s eye, I could clearly see the thread that bound me irrevocably to Ladybug running across all those years, leading to us standing there, together, on that rooftop.

Completely satisfied, I felt myself start to purr. My deep rumble of contentment triggered a smile from Marinette. She looked up at me, and stretched a hand higher to run it along the edge of one of my feline ears. “I don’t care what anyone says, I love a man who can purr.”

I closed my masked eyes to savor the sheer bliss of her touch, knowing my purring was getting louder. “And the reality is, Milady, you do.”

“I do,” she laughed. “And will. Furrever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thanks for reading along with me! I enjoyed writing this, and have left myself an option to revisit these two as middle-aged superheroes. My personal thanks to the amazingly excellent LyraMaeArcher for inspiring me to even think of these two as grownups with kids of their own (see her excellent entry from Adrien AUGreste 2019). I’m considering re-writing this entirely from the perspective of Marinette/Ladybug; it feels like an interesting story, seeing these events unfold from her side of the fence. Should I? I honestly don’t know, so let me know what you think._
> 
> * * *
> 
> _* I will leave it to the reader’s imagination as to whether Juliette was referring to the wax figure of Adrien as seen in Puppeteer 2, or Chat Noir. 😉_


End file.
